


Take Me Back to Where We Started

by amory



Series: Take Me Back to Where We Started [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Louis, Boarding School, Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Closeted Character, Exes, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Famous Louis, Getting Back Together, Harry is also a genius, He is also a Genius, Louis is James Bond, M/M, Niall is a Good Friend, Non-Famous Harry, Ordinary Harry, Post-Break Up, School Reunion, Student Harry, Teacher Harry, but not how you're probably thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-22 10:55:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11378739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amory/pseuds/amory
Summary: Harry and Louis haven't spoken since they broke up four years ago. As boarding school sweethearts they once spent every waking moment together, but now they can hardly stand to be in the same room. When their five year class reunion comes around, both boys decide against their better judgement to return and (hopefully) have a good time.The only problem is, they're both still hopelessly in love.Starring Harry as the petty ex, Louis as the new James Bond, Niall as a boy genius and fake boyfriend extraordinaire, and Liam and Zayn as two friends just trying to make it out of this weekend alive.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry wants to throw the letter away as soon as he spots it sitting in his mailbox. Something in him betrays that thought though, which is why he soon finds himself sitting at his kitchen table, frowning at the letter resolutely as if enough glaring will make it disappear.

“H, you got the post?” Niall asks, ruffling Harry’s hair as he passes by to flip the kettle on. Usually Harry does that, but he’s been too busy glaring at this damn letter.

“Yeah, just there,” Harry mutters, pointing to the small pile of bills for each of them and a postcard from Harry’s mum. Niall picks that up first and grins, and he’s probably about to tell Harry what his mum is doing on her holiday when he notices the letter.

It’s ostentatious and pretentious, just like where it’s been sent from. The envelope itself is made from heavy parchment with Harry’s name and address written across the front in handwritten cursive. It’s sealed in the back by a red wax stamp bearing the school’s coat of arms.

Niall nods towards the letter. “Is that from-”

“Yeah,” Harry says, flicking the letter away.

It slides further across the table, stopped from falling over the edge only by Niall’s hand slapping it. He picks it up and turns it over a few times with a frown.

“Fancy,” he mutters. “Do you want me to open it?”

Harry shrugs. He wants nothing to do with that school, or the memories associated with the four years he spent there. Only a year ago he’d been called by his old headmaster to come and speak with a group of students and had dealt with it by hanging up on him quickly after making up a half assed excuse. He hasn’t stepped foot on those grounds since the day he left, and honestly he never wants to again.

There’s an awful tearing sound and Harry looks up to see Niall ripping the envelope open with his teeth. He takes the letter out and clears his throat before reading what it says aloud in a terrible posh accent.

“ _Dear Harry Styles_ ,” he starts. “ _You are formally invited to attend the reunion for alumni of the class of 2011_ -”

“Throw it out,” Harry says, jumping to his feet and storming out of the kitchen.

Absolutely not. Hell no. There is no way Harry’s going back to that place with all of its awful brown buildings, and uniforms, and snobby students, and hallways full of memories. Fuck that.

Harry manages to get dressed for his day and almost out the door before Niall stops him.

“Haz,” he says, watching Harry pretend to be very busy tying his shoes. “I think you should go. I think it’d be good for you to go back to ole Hogwarts and face your demons.”

Harry snorts. “Ni, not _every_ boarding school is Hogwarts.”

“I dunno, you’re pretty secretive about the whole thing,” Niall says, following Harry around the living room while he searches for his favorite scarf. “Who’s to say you weren’t really up in Scotland or summat, faffing about with sticks?”

Harry turns, favorite scarf successfully wrapped around his neck, and stares at the man he’s chosen for a best friend. Niall stares right back, wearing pajama pants covered in cartoon characters from the 90’s and a shirt that says _Kiss Me, I_ _’m Irish._ Really, what has Harry done to deserve Niall in his life?

“You’re actually insane,” he decides. “I mean, I always knew, but it’s nice to finally have confirmation.”

“You’re going!” Niall yells as Harry pushes past him to get back to the door.

Harry rolls his eyes. “Right now the only place I’m going is a lecture,” he says. “Goodbye Niall, have a great day.”

“We aren’t through talking about this, Styles!” Niall shouts after him.

But Harry is, so he shuts the door behind himself and starts the trek to work.

 

* * *

 

He’s only just through giving a lecture about gay subtext in English literature to a lecture hall full of hungover looking twenty somethings when Niall crashes into the room. No one seems too startled by it, because Niall has always been a bit eccentric, but Harry catches a couple of his students looking shocked to see _the_ Niall Horan in their Introduction to English Literature class.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he starts as he makes his way down from the very top row of the lecture hall.

Harry sighs loudly. “Here we go,” he mutters, before raising his voice to address the students. “Class, you’re dismissed. Please remember to have your papers in to me by Friday night. Please also remember that if you email me at exactly 11:59 saying your computer has mysteriously combusted I’m not going to believe you-do your work.”

“I’ve tried that one before,” Niall says to Harry, leaning over the desk where Harry is dutifully packing his things. “Never works, good advice Hazza. Anyway, hear me out on this one.”

Harry’s students pass by, calling goodbyes to him on their way. Harry gives them all a smile and a wave and dutifully ignores the girl who always sits in the front row who is trying to linger to talk to him. She gets the idea soon enough when Niall gives her a pointed look, and she leaves the room with a huff.

“Thanks,” Harry mutters. “She’s one of the worst.”

Niall nods. “No worries mate,” he smirks. “Can’t keep the ladies off ya, huh? Wish I had that problem.”

“Have them, please,” Harry mutters, shutting his books and putting them carefully into his bag. “I am so, so uninterested. Even if I was straight, I’m not sleeping with a student.”

Niall laughs. “I’m so glad I didn’t teach during my doctorate, I wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You were sixteen, Niall, no one would’ve let you teach anyway.”

“They would’ve been fuckin’ blessed to have me,” Niall says quite seriously. “Anyway, as I was saying-”

“We need to leave, there’s a class coming soon,” Harry says, throwing the strap of his beaten leather messenger bag over his shoulder. The next class isn’t actually coming for almost an hour, but Harry doesn’t want to have this conversation, so he’ll put it off as long as he possibly can.

Niall follows him out of the lecture hall and through the university towards Niall’s office. Technically, Harry has a desk of his own stuffed in with the other adjunct English professors, but it’s always too loud and busy in there. Besides, Niall’s office has a mini fridge in it that he’s been hiding for months now and Harry likes to take advantage of that.

Just like Niall’s room back at their flat, his office is cluttered and confusing. His many degrees hang on one wall while on another he’s tacked up posters of his favorite football players. His desk is covered in papers and a few test samples he probably shouldn’t throw straight into the trash but does anyway. He takes a seat in his overstuffed leather chair and throws his dirty trainers up on the desk.

Even though he’s Britain’s so called boy genius, Niall still dresses and acts a bit like a teenager. If Harry were more into psychology, he would think it has something to do with the fact that Niall had to grow up so quickly, but he’s not, so he doesn’t.

“I think,” Niall says, opening his lunch and shoving a sandwich into his mouth. “That there’s an ex at this school. I think that’s why you don’t want to go back.”

Harry turns Niall’s coffee machine on before he sits down on the old couch and opens his own lunch. He's going to need coffee to get through this conversation.

“And why would you say that?” he asks, not letting on that Niall’s hit the nail on the head.

“Because I’m psychic,” Niall replies quite seriously. He makes eye contact with Harry, completely unwavering for a moment until he bursts out laughing. “Nah, I’m just fucking with you.”

“Thanks Ni, never would’ve guessed,” Harry mutters.

Niall smiles and chews on his sandwich thoughtfully for a bit before saying, “There is an ex, yeah? Some boarding school romance straight out of a porno.”

“I’d really appreciate it if we didn’t talk about porn right now,” Harry says.

Niall cackles and throws a pickle from his sandwich at Harry. He misses and it lands with a smack onto the floor, where it’ll probably stay for weeks before Niall gets around to picking it up.

“Okay, fine,” Niall relents. “But I’m right aren’t I? There’s a boy there you don’t want to see.”

“Yeah,” Harry says, finally. “Not that he’d even show. He’s too busy for that sort of thing.”

But that's not a guarantee he won't show up, which is enough for Harry to avoid going.

“Successful? Maybe married?” Niall asks, and Harry nods along. “So you’re going to bring me on this weekend as a plus one and we can pretend to be very happily married.”

Harry barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “That is so not going to work.”

“Why not?”

“Well for one, you aren’t my type,” Harry says, ignoring Niall’s affronted look. “And for two, I still talk to some of our- _my_ old friends, they would know if I got married, and he would by extension.”

Niall sighs heavily, pushing his chair side to side while he thinks. “Well fine, then I’ll just be your boyfriend. It’s only for a weekend anyway, and I’ve lived with you so long I practically am your boyfriend. I know everything about you!”

“I don’t want to go,” Harry says, sounding for all the world like a petulant child. “It’s just going to be everyone standing around gloating about how great and rich they are and drinking spiked punch while I stand in the back and pretend I don’t exist.”

Much like how the first few weeks of his first year went, actually.

Niall looks at him like he has two heads and stands up to make his way across the room. “Harry Styles,” he says, which tips Harry off that he’s about to start ranting. “You are a fucking genius, don’t even start on the whole _I_ _’m not Mensa certified Niall_ shit, because you are. You’re getting your masters in the next couple of months and your doctorate right after that, and you’re twenty-three Harry. You’re going to be a published author soon, and someday you’re going to win the damn Nobel Prize. You’re going to show up there and be the most successful graduate that old Hogwarts wannabe school has ever had-and you’re going to do it with me there beside you. Me, your devilishly handsome fake boyfriend, and real best friend who is entirely capable of mixing up a bomb and taking care of any exes or old bullies if need be.”

Harry blinks at him, because that rant was actually pretty impressive. Niall pokes him in the shoulder, waiting for his answer, and Harry sighs.

“Fine,” he gives in. “We can go, but if you embarrass me with stupid pet names even once we’re coming straight home.”

Niall beams and reaches out to pinch Harry’s cheek. “Anything for you, sweetums,” he coos.

Harry is already regretting this.

 

* * *

 

Louis gets the call from his mum on a Monday. He’s been filming a scene all morning where he’s meant to be getting shot at, which means a lot of running, which means he’s exhausted by the time he sits down in his trailer.

He calls her back and waits for her to answer while making himself a drink. Two in the afternoon on a Monday is probably a bit early to be drinking, but his back is killing him and he needs to relax a bit.

“Lou, darling,” she answers.

Louis smiles, the sound of his mother’s voice always bringing him right back home. Even now, stuck somewhere in the French countryside, it makes him feel a little less homesick that usual.

“Hi Mum,” Louis replies. “I saw you called, sorry I couldn’t answer. Been getting shot at all morning.”

Jay sighs. “You know, that’s something most mums would hate to hear from their sons.”

“Well, I imagine most mums don’t have James Bond for a son,” Louis teases. “What’s up, what’s going on in Donny without me?”

Jay fills him in on all of the local gossip, what his siblings are up to, and how the youngest twins are doing in school. Louis smiles through it all, commenting in all the right places. Finally, after fifteen minutes of talking, his mum gets to why she called in the first place.

“You got a letter this morning,” she says.

Louis frowns. “A letter? At your house?”

“Mhm, from Willard,” she says.

“I haven’t lived at yours for years, I wonder why they’d do that,” Louis murmurs.

Jay laughs. “Well, it’s probably the last known address they have for you love. You’re a difficult man to track down, for good reason. I opened it, it’s an invitation to your five year class reunion.”

Louis stands up and walks across his trailer to grab his laptop. Sure enough when he opens it he finds Liam and Zayn talking about the same letter in their group message. He had muted them this morning, not wanting to subject his poor assistant to the torture of those two blowing up his phone every five minutes as they're known to do.

“Well?” Jay asks. “It says to RSVP before the end of the week, shall I send a letter back?”

Louis thinks about it for a moment. He hasn’t been back at Willard since he left, having absolutely no interest in uprooting all of the memories those halls hold. Surely if there’s a reunion, most everyone will come. And if most everyone comes-

“When is it?” Louis asks.

There’s a soft shushing noise in the background as Jay takes the letter out of the envelope. No doubt heavy parchment with a wax seal, the same sort of letter Louis got all those years ago saying he was accepted. God, it feels like lifetimes ago now.

“It starts December 16th, right after the end of term for students. It’ll go through until the 19th though, they have an entire weekend planned for everyone. It’s all in the letter, I can send it to your flat if you like.”

Louis shakes his head. “No, that’s okay. Go ahead and RSVP for me Mum, please. We’ll be done filming by then, and I’d planned on coming back up to Donny that week anyway. I’ll spend the weekend at Willard, it’ll be fun seeing the lads again.”

“Okay,” Jay murmurs. “You’re RSVPed then. Shall I…there’s an option for a plus one.”

Her tone is awkward and Louis hates it. He shakes his head. “No, just me,” he says. “We’ll be broken up by then, I’ve been promised December first, though I’m sure they’ll try to drag it out a bit longer.”

Jay laughs a bit and Louis supposes it is sort of funny, the fact that he has a breakup scheduled like one would a dentist appointment. Danielle, his beautiful Bond girl costar and beard, had been put together with him as soon as their roles were confirmed a year before. They’re breaking up right as the movie finishes shooting, and Louis is sure they’ll play it up in the papers. He tries to ignore that sort of thing, though.

“Perfect then,” Jay says. “I can’t wait to see you darling, it’s been far too long.”

“I can’t wait to see you either, Mum,” Louis says with a smile. “I’ll call you later, I have to get back to set.”

“Okay, I love you Boo. You make me so proud.”

“Thanks Mum,” Louis murmurs. “I love you too.”

He hangs up and gets to his feet, downing the rest of his whiskey and getting ready to head back out. There’s a new message in the group chat though, and he supposes he can let the boys know.

_Lima: Louis!!! Answer us :(_

_Z: he_ _s busy being 2 famous to remember where he comes from_

Louis rolls his eyes and writes back, _I_ _’m coming lads, just got off the phone with mum she’s sending the rsvp for me. can’t wait to see u guys like old times that place won’t know what hit them_

 _Lima: yaaaaayyy I_ _’m so excited!! Zayn is h coming??_

_Z: let me check if he answered_

Louis bites at his thumb while he waits for the answer, hating himself for wanting to know so badly. Surely he shouldn’t care anymore. Surely he should be over his ex by now, considering he’s the one who broke them up. His phone buzzes to life in his hand and he looks down, almost scared of the answer.

What he finds is definitely not what he wanted to see.

 _Z: yeh he says he is and he_ ' _s bringing his boyfriend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is possibly the most ridiculous thing I've ever written but I'm sort of in love with the characters so. The idea for this came from listening to Kodaline's entire In a Perfect World album which is basically one giant "I still love my ex, why did we break up" AU waiting to happen.
> 
> Let me know what you think!! :)
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/amoriess/playlist/47sFlfh2zdN1Skqx7VWpsH) | [tumblr](http://amories.tumblr.com) | [rebloggable post](http://amories.tumblr.com/post/162514325302/take-me-back-to-where-we-started-by-amory)


	2. Chapter 2

Louis is woken up by a small child dive bombing his bed, which actually isn’t too unusual in his mum’s house.

“Louis!” his little sister shouts, climbing over to sit on his stomach. “Louis, Mummy says wake up!”

Despite the fact that he took a red eye in from Los Angeles last night and he is absolutely jet lagged and exhausted, Louis opens his eyes and smiles at Doris. She smiles right back, gap toothed and adorable as always.

“You’re sitting on my kidneys, love,” Louis tells her.

Doris moves a bit so her bony knees stab into another part of Louis’ stomach. “Mummy says wake up, Lou,” she repeats. “You’re sleepin’ a whole day.”

“Alright, alright,” Louis groans, sitting up carefully so he doesn’t knock Doris to the ground. She squeals as Louis picks her up and carries her out of his room. He grabs his phone at the last minute, deciding he should at least check on the latest about his breakup.

It’s been two weeks since the news broke, but he’s still being touted as a playboy heartbreaker in the gossip world. Danielle’s team is really milking it, posting a few black and white pictures to her instagram with sad captions, while Louis maintains radio silence. Part one of the plan, he supposes, but it does make him seem like a dick.

Louis sighs and shoves his phone into his pocket as they enter the kitchen.

“There you are!” Jay says when she spots him. “I thought you’d sleep right up until you had to leave, love. You should at least eat something before you start driving.”

Louis nods and sits down at the kitchen table, letting Doris down to run across the house yelling like a maniac. He smiles and pulls his phone out once more to see a text from Liam.

_Lima: can we try to be civil today???_

Louis smiles and writes back, _No promises Lima_

_Lima: pls dont call me that_

Jay sets down a plate of pancakes in front of him and runs a hand through his hair. “Are you excited?” she asks, taking a seat in the chair beside him. “How long has it been since you’ve gone back?”

Louis hums as he cuts into his pancakes. “Two years, I think,” he says. “Whenever it was that I donated all of that money and they started naming shit after me.”

Part of Louis did it out of spite. He was always in trouble at school, playing pranks, staying out past curfew, skipping class-it was gratifying coming back with an Oscar under his belt and seeing the look in all of his old teacher’s eyes. It was also incredibly gratifying watching his old headmaster have to put on a big smile for him when receiving a check, like they weren’t mortal enemies.

But Louis isn’t entirely spiteful, not really. As awful as he was a student, he still spent some of the best years of his life at Willard. He grew up there, met his best friends there, he met Harry there. Not that that is important anymore, even though it was once the most important thing in the world to Louis. Still, Harry and the love they had changed his life.

As if reading his mind, Jay asks, “Is everyone coming then? Liam, Zayn, and Harry?”

“As far as I know,” Louis answers. “But you know Harry and I don’t talk anymore, Mum.”

“I know,” Jay replies with a frown. “And you know that I think it’s an absolute shame.”

Louis groans and pushes himself out of his chair. He makes up an excuse about wanting a drink, but all he really wants is to avoid his mother’s knowing gaze. He’s pouring himself a glass of orange juice when she speaks again.

“I’m just saying,” she says. “The two of you were best friends before everything else happened. I’m sure there have been a lot of points in the past four years where you needed one another. It’s okay to admit you made a mistake.”

Louis shakes his head. “Mum, stop, please. It’s been four years, I don’t regret breaking it off with Harry.”

 _Lie_ , he thinks.

“We went our separate ways, we’re both better off for it. It never would’ve worked between us.”

_Even bigger lie._

Jay lets out a loud sigh and reaches for Louis’ hand when he sits down. She knows that he’s lying to himself, and Louis knows she knows that. It’s a sort of game they’ve been playing, seeing how long Louis can keep up this facade before he breaks down.

“Who knows?” Jay says, finally. “Maybe this weekend you and Harry will be able to reconnect.”

Louis sputters out a laugh and shakes his head. “I really, really doubt that Mum,” he murmurs.

And even though he wants to mean it, there’s a stupid unrealistic part of himself that desperately hopes she’s right.

 

* * *

 

The Willard School for Boys looks exactly how Harry remembers. Stuck in the middle of a forest, surrounded by miles of nothing, it’s large gate welcoming him home. Term has ended for the winter, meaning the campus is missing the usual sights of boys wandering around the grounds or pushing each other into the freshly fallen snow.

Harry parks his car in the teacher’s parking lot, right next to the dormitories where he spent most of his adolescence, while Niall yells at him.

“It _is_ Hogwarts!” he says. “I knew you were trying to hide it from me, I knew it.”

Harry rolls his eyes and switches the car off. It looks a bit stupid and beat up in a sea of sleek expensive Range Rovers and Porches, but it’s his. No doubt most of these cars were bought with trust funds.

“It isn’t Hogwarts,” Harry says for the hundredth time since they began this road trip hours ago.

But he will give Niall that, Willard is impressive, and could maybe pass for Hogwarts with some artistic license. It certainly isn’t a castle, but there are tall spires shooting up for the chapel, and the building surrounds a quad overlooked by a magnificent clock tower and stone walkways. It doesn’t help that the entire campus is covered in a light dusting of snow and the sun has set, leaving only the moon and stars to light up the face of the building.

They’re late-which is Harry’s fault because he tried to put off going as long as he could-but at least they’re here. He feels young again as he walks through the snowy outdoor corridors with Niall. It’s almost like he’s sixteen again, sneaking in past lights out with his best friend.

To start the weekend out there’s a mixer, which Harry had hoped to miss but unfortunately hasn’t. He pushes open the main doors to find a table sitting in front of the gymnasium doors, beyond which he can hear music playing.

“Harry Styles!” A voice bellows as soon as they open the door.

Headmaster Richards, the same person Harry hung up on and ignored for a week last year, stands at the table beaming at him. Years back hearing his name bellowed by the man who could make or break his entire future would have made Harry cry. Now, he just wants to disappear.

“Hello,” Harry says, brushing snow off of his head as they near the table. “I’m sorry we’re so late.”

“Oh, don’t worry over it for even a moment,” the older man laughs, reaching out to shake Harry’s hand. “We’re just happy to have you back! You’re one of our most successful alumnus. Is this your plus one?”

Harry turns to face Niall who’s frowning. He mouths _Alumnus?_ to Harry who shrugs. No time to discuss grammar now, he needs Niall to impress Headmasters Richards before the man remembers just how rude Harry was to him a year ago.

“I’m Niall Horan,” Niall says, leaving out the very much implied _I_ _’m sure you've heard of me._

Headmaster Richards looks shocked, but quickly regains composure and shakes Niall’s hand. “Mr. Horan,” he says, which is enough to make Harry snort. “It’s an honor to meet you, an absolute honor! I recently read your first dissertation, your view on mathematical theory was absolutely fascinating-and at only eighteen, to already have that sort of brilliance. I cannot imagine what you have in store for us next.”

In true Niall fashion, he laughs loud enough to startle everyone in the hall and slaps Headmaster Richards on the back. Harry is pretty sure his eyes are about to pop out of his head, and he quickly kicks the back of Niall’s leg. Niall is a genius, this much is true, but he certainly doesn’t act like one.

“Aw, thanks,” Niall drawls. “Always nice to meet a fan!”

Harry lets out a loud and terribly fake laugh and pulls Niall back. “What he means to say is thank you, Headmaster Richards. Where should we put our things?”

“You can leave them right here,” a woman says, appearing next to Headmaster Richards from down the hall. She points to where a pile of luggage sits and says, “Let me just get your room number for you.”

Harry frowns. “Are we staying in a hotel?” he asks.

She laughs. “Of course not! The Alumni Association decided it’d be fun for everyone to stay in the dormitories! There’s an entire empty wing cleared out for all of you.”

It sounds like the exact opposite of what Harry considers fun, but Niall perks up instantly.

“Oh, that’ll be sick, won’t it babe?” he says, handing the woman his bag and getting a ticket with their room number on it. “I never got to dorm at uni, you know, since I was fourteen and all. This will be just like that, won’t it? Sick.”

Headmaster Richards pastes on a smile. “Of course,” he says, though Harry is sure he has no clue what Niall is blathering on about. “Why don’t you two head on in to the mixer? There’s still a bit of time left before we show you to your rooms.”

Harry nods and pockets his room number. He thanks Headmaster Richards and the woman now carrying their bags, and promptly leads Niall towards the gymnasium by his elbow.

“You’re the worst,” Harry hisses to him. “Did you see his face?”

Niall laughs. “You know what they say, never meet your heroes.”

“Just act natural, please?” Harry sighs, pulling Niall to a stop in front of the gym doors and taking the other lad in. He fixes Niall's blazer that he's paired with an old band shirt and shakes his head. “I know you've only been gay like, ten minutes, but try not to act too ridiculous.”

“Gotcha sweetums,” Niall says, leaning in to kiss Harry loudly on the cheek. “Let’s go, then. No time like the present, as they say, once more unto the breech-”

“Just hold my hand and try not to get lost,” Harry interrupts.

Niall reaches for Harry's hand and squeezes. Harry takes a deep breath to steel himself before pushing the gymnasium doors open.

 _Unto the breech_ , he thinks.

 

* * *

 

Louis is loving this class reunion.

He’s had a few good glasses of spiked punch since he’s arrived, signed a few autographs for boys that once made fun of him in school, and now he’s standing with Liam and Zayn in the corner of the gym reminiscing over the loud music.

“This is going to be the best weekend,” Liam is saying, swaying a bit to the music in the dark. “I mean, I know you guys aren’t pleased about the whole sleeping in the dormitories thing, but I think it could be fun! There’s a whole bunch of stuff happening tomorrow, it’s going to be great. Plus, I get to see the two of you.”

Zayn pretends to tear up. “Bring it in, Li,” he says, holding his arms open for a drunken hug. Louis rolls his eyes at the two of them.

It hasn’t been that long since they’ve seen each other. They had a party not that long ago at Louis’ flat in London, celebrating their individual successes. Zayn’s art has been featured in a gallery in London, Liam’s doing whatever it is smart people do in lab coats, and Louis is running around being James fucking Bond.

Sometimes it shocks him how much things have changed.

Louis turns to see if there’s any punch left when the doors swing open. Everyone arrived an hour ago, or so he thought, because suddenly there’s Harry Styles in all his glory standing in the doorway.

Harry looks-fuck, Louis shouldn’t care or notice how Harry looks, but he does. He looks fit, is the thing. Harry has always been fit, but it’s different now. He’s grown into himself, his baby face gone, and he looks so sure of himself as he strides in. Gone completely is the boy Louis once knew. In his place stands a tall man with legs that seem to go on for ages, clad in tight skinny jeans, wearing brown boots on his feet.

Louis’ Harry used to wear baggy jeans and awful trainers they bought to match. This Harry is wearing a sleek black pea coat with a large cream scarf wrapped around his neck, and glasses-fuck, since when does Harry wear glasses? To top it all off, his hair no longer falls in chin length curls, but is pulled into a bun at the top of his head.

Harry looks _more_ than fit. _What_ _’s more than fit?_ Louis wonders. Fuckable, probably, but more than that even. He’s the kind of boy you fuck once and then immediately bring home to meet your mother because they’re so damn perfect.

Harry’s met his mother already, many times.

Louis is so drunk.

“Oh my god, Harry!” Zayn says.

Liam, who’s been the only one to see Harry recently, squeals. “Hazza, over here!”

Louis wishes he had enough forethought to tackle Liam to the ground, but it’s too late, he starts waving his arms around wildly and calling attention to them. Harry spots them even in the dim light and Louis’ heart pangs at the sight of his smile.

The boy he has beside him smiles as well, tugging him forward from where they’re holding hands. Louis hates this, why did he agree to this?

“Harry,” Liam laughs, hugging Harry tightly as soon as he’s near enough. “God, I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Saw you in September, Li,” Harry laughs, and Louis’ breath catches in his throat. He hasn’t heard Harry’s voice since-years ago, now. “Good to see you though, lad, I see you’ve had a bit to drink.”

Zayn is next, hugging Harry tightly. “It’s good to see you, H,” he murmurs. “I’ve missed you. Who’s this?”

Harry pulls away with a smile, completely ignoring Louis. He turns to the boy standing beside him, who is a bit shorter with dull blue eyes and stupid hair, and his eyes light up. “This is my, uh, boyfriend. Yeah, my boyfriend, Niall Horan. Niall, these were my best mates from school, Zayn and Liam.”

And that is so completely uncalled for. Louis was Harry’s best mate. What does this boy think he’s doing, ignoring Louis like he isn’t standing right here?

“Niall Horan,” Zayn laughs. “Jesus, I always thought Harry was making you up.”

“I’m so famous with you geeky people, this is great,” Niall teases, leaning easily into Harry’s side. Louis glares daggers at him until Niall finally notices him and his eyes go wide. “Holy shit.”

Harry makes a face, deigning Louis with a small glance. No long staring, like Louis had done with him.

“That’s Lewis,” he says, like a prick.

“Louis, actually,” Louis says, reaching out to shake Niall’s hand. “Tomlinson, Louis Tomlinson.”

Niall barks out a laugh. “You did the thing!” he yells, and shit, Louis had. He hadn’t meant to, but he’s a bit drunk and he’s been filming a lot lately. It’s like second nature at this point.

“Mate, I know who you are,” Niall continues. “Shit, H, you never told me you were friends with James Bond!”

They’re eyes lock, finally. Harry is frowning at him, while Louis stares blankly. He’s so beautiful, Louis thinks, he always has been.

“That’s because I’m not,” Harry says coldly, breaking eye contact. “Come on, Ni, let’s get a drink.”

Harry pulls Niall towards the table of food and drinks and Zayn laughs.

“Damn, that was _cold_.”

Liam looks distraught by the whole exchange and reaches out to rub Louis’ back. “Lou, are you okay?”

“Why should he be okay, he’s the one who broke it off with Harry,” Zayn points out.

Liam shoots him a look. “Let’s not pick sides.”

“I’m not picking sides, just stating facts,” Zayn murmurs, taking a sip of his drink.

Louis rolls his eyes and pretends not to be affected by the entire ordeal while he watches Harry and Niall laugh from across the room. He hates the way Harry seems to fit into Niall’s side like he used to fit into Louis’. He hates that he even cares, because he shouldn’t, he should be over this.

He isn’t over it, though, he never was.

The two boys soon return with cups of punch and a plate of appetizers. Louis is about to ask Harry who the fuck he thinks he is, when the music stops suddenly. The lights in the gym go up a bit and they all look to the front to see their old headmaster standing at a microphone and smiling at them.

Headmaster Richards acted very pleased to see Louis earlier, even though Louis knows it must have been absolutely killing him.

“Hello everyone, and welcome,” the man says. “We’re all so excited to have the Class of 2011 back here at Willard for a weekend of fun. To get us started, our Alumni Association has put together a little slideshow of your time here that we’ll watch before heading off to your rooms for the night.”

Harry’s face goes white. “Fuck,” he mutters.

Niall looks concerned and jealously shoots through Louis as he watches the shorter man rub Harry’s back. “What’s wrong, H?”

Harry glances over to Louis for a moment, but shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he mutters.

The lights in the gymnasium dim once more and a screen is pulled down from the ceiling. The first picture that appears is a class picture of all the boys as music starts playing in the background. Laughter rolls through the crowd as the boys see themselves so young.

“Your hair, Liam,” Zayn laughs, knocking into Liam a bit who blushes.

The pictures start appearing on screen one by one, timed to the music. It starts with the boys moving in their very first year, and Louis realizes why Harry was freaking out. It isn’t a very big class, or a big school, and Louis was much more popular than he really knew.

The first picture of them is so shocking to his system that he feels breathless.

Harry is sitting on Louis’ bed in their shared dorm and they each have an arm slung around the other’s shoulders. They’re both wearing their brand new grey and blue Willard uniforms and smiling for the camera. They look so terribly young, and Louis wishes he could go back and time and warn them of what’s to come.

Niall gasps, looking up at Harry. “You’re so cute, love, oh my god!”

“Thanks, Ni,” Harry says as the picture changes, finally.

But of course there’s more, hundreds more. Not all of them are of Louis and Harry alone, of course, but they’re always together. Eating together, going to class together, studying together, going on trips together, lounging around in their pajamas together-it’s incriminating evidence, really. They were so terribly obvious. Anyone can see how in love they were, but they were two boys who were much too young to be in love as they were.

Louis ignores Liam and Zayn’s eyes and instead stares resolutely at the corner of the screen, showing absolutely no emotion. It feels like hours before the slideshow ends with a picture of the entire class right before they moved out for the last time, right before Louis and Harry moved in together on a whim and started falling apart.

“Well,” Zayn says, breaking the tense silence. “We should, um, we should probably head up for the night.”

Niall wraps his arm around Harry’s waist and smiles at the other three. “It was great meeting you guys, I’m sure we’ll see you in the morning. Come on love, let’s get you to bed.”

Harry follows with a simple _Bye_ to the three of them, walking out of the gym with Niall holding him. Louis can’t tear his eyes away even for a moment. He’s too focused on the way Harry wilts in Niall’s arms as soon as they’re out of the gymnasium.

“That went well,” Liam blurts out.

Louis sighs. “Shut up, Lima.”

 

* * *

 

The room they’re staying in is on the second floor of the farthest wing of the dormitories. Zayn used to have his dorm near here, Harry remembers. He smoked his very first joint in that room and had to sneak back to his own room with Louis through these halls high.

“Jesus, this place is fancy,” Niall mutters as they walk in. “The beds are so big!”

Harry looks around. These rooms are much nicer than the room he once shared with Louis. “They’re the single rooms,” he explains. “For the super rich who don’t want their children associating with anyone but the super rich. The other room are for the regular rich.”

Niall laughs, elbowing him as he walks past to get to his bag. “Since when is your family loaded, Harry?”

“Since never, I was on a scholarship. And trust me, everyone knew it.”

Niall makes a face at that, but says nothing. The two boys change quietly, neither of them mentioning what just happened in that gym. Harry knew coming back was a terrible idea, but he had really hoped Louis wouldn’t show up. Isn’t he supposed to be busy being a big movie star?

“Come here,” Niall says, patting the spot on the bed beside him. Harry does, climbing under the covers and wishing he could just disappear.

“It’s Louis, isn’t it?”

Harry sighs and nods. “We uh…it’s sort of complicated.”

“I bet,” Niall laughs. “Jesus, Harry, why didn’t you say anything? And I made you go see his movies, oh my god that must’ve been _awful_ for you-”

Harry shakes his head. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. He’s gotten used to seeing Louis’ face plastered on bus stations, in magazines, on his television, on the internet, even in the cinema with Niall. He’s become desensitized to it, really.

Seeing Louis in person for the first time since they broke up ruined that, however. Harry’s heart had leapt just at the sight of Louis, reminding him just how much he once loved that man.

“He’s James Bond now, you know,” Niall says, as if Harry could’ve missed that.

“I know, Ni.”

“You totally fucked James Bond, you’re so cool.”

Harry rolls his eyes, trying to hold in his laughter. “He wasn’t James Bond then,” he says, reaching out to turn the lights off. “He was just Louis, then.”

“Oh, H,” Niall sighs. “Come here, give me a cuddle, it’ll all be okay. We’ll get through this weekend, and we’re going to make Louis Tomlinson so jealous he’ll have no idea why he ever left you.”

Harry rolls over and lets Niall pull him in. Niall's always been a cuddler, and it’s a thousand times worse when he’s had a few drinks. He settles behind Harry with a happy sigh and starts petting Harry’s curls like a cat.

“Don’t go falling in love with me,” Niall warns. “Just because we have to share a bed and I’m pretending to be your boyfriend. I’ve seen enough rom-coms, Styles, I know where this was going.”

Harry rolls his eyes, but can’t help his smile. “There is literally no possibility of that happening, I really wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” Niall yawns. “Well, go to sleep Haz.”

“Goodnight, Niall.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy July 5th hangover everyone!! My head is pounding and I'm craving some really greasy food, but that's what I get. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, thank you for the amazing response to the first one!! :) This really is a ridiculous fic, but I'm having fun with it
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/amoriess/playlist/47sFlfh2zdN1Skqx7VWpsH) | [tumblr](http://amories.tumblr.com) | [rebloggable post](http://amories.tumblr.com/post/162514325302/take-me-back-to-where-we-started-by-amory)


	3. Chapter 3

Saturday morning arrives with Louis jolting awake having absolutely no idea where he is. A look out the window shocks him and he almost thinks for a moment that his entire life has been a dream. Soon Harry will be at his bed, coaxing him awake and telling him it’s time to get to the dining hall for breakfast.

Harry isn’t there, though, of course he isn’t. And Louis’ life hasn’t been just a dream, or even a nightmare, it’s all real.

Louis stands up, the freezing wood floors shocking him awake and pricking at his toes until he hops over to his suitcase for a pair of socks. He gets dressed as quickly as possible, wondering if they ever have the heat on in this place, and texts Zayn to ask where he and Liam are.

A knock at his door answers him and Louis smiles.

Zayn and Liam stand in the hall smiling at him, just as he expected. What he hadn’t expected is to find a very grumpy looking Harry and a grinning Niall standing beside them.

“Hey,” Liam says. “We fetched Harry as well, figured we could all eat together, like old times.”

Harry pouts at that and seems to sink into the scarf he’s wearing. “You woke me up,” he grumbles, sounding and looking like a disgruntled kitten. He seems to have ditched the glasses for today and his hair is down now, freshly washed curls just touching the shoulders of the big blue jumper he’s wrapped himself in.

“Aw love,” Niall tuts. “Did I keep you up all night?”

Harry goes red and knocks into Niall’s shoulder with his own. “ _Niall,_ ” he hisses.

Louis frowns at the both of them and decides not to think about that, even though he now cannot stop thinking about it. Surely they wouldn’t-no, he isn’t thinking about that. Louis pushes all thoughts of Harry and Niall in compromising positions out of his mind and follows the boys silently to the dining hall.

It’s already bustling with the other boys and a huge breakfast has been spread out for them at the front of the hall. Niall looks around with wide eyes, taking in the high ceilings and the elaborately decorated walls.

“Just like Harry Potter,” he says, turning to look at Harry. “I told you, H, told you you’re really Harry Potter.”

Harry sighs and pats Niall’s back. “Whatever you want to believe, love,” he says, voice still raspy with sleep.

“I want to believe in magic,” Niall announces, much to everyone else’s amusement. “Speaking of magic, Harry did I tell you what I found in the lab the other day?”

Harry’s smile is good natured and when he speaks, it sounds rehearsed, like they have this conversation all the time. “No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

Louis completely tunes out Niall’s babbling about periodic tables and chemicals and metals. The only other person who seems interested is Liam, who has always been into science and shit. Even Harry looks like he isn’t entirely sure of what’s happening, but he nods in all the right places and makes comments that keep Niall talking as they go through the breakfast line.

What do they have to talk about, Louis wonders. Last night while a bit drunk, Louis had taken it upon himself to google this Niall Horan character. The pictures of Niall at fourteen and on talk shows-discussing how he’s already made it to uni and discovered a new element and named it after his favorite cartoon-immediately jogged Louis’ memory. He’s their age now, and he has three doctorates and is apparently working on a fourth.

Don’t get him wrong, Harry has always been smarter than anyone Louis has ever met, but Niall doesn’t seem to be geared towards the same interests. All of his degrees are in math and science, which Harry is also great at, but Louis knows Harry loves literature and writing more than anything.

When they were just kids, Louis would always find him in the library at all hours on the weekends, nose stuck in a book and hiding from the world and the cruel boys who taunted him. Later, it would be him holding Harry on his bed and gently running his fingers through those curls whilst Harry devoured every book he could.

Louis finds himself stuck in that memory. The gentle slide of Harry’s curls through his fingers, the weight of his body pressed against Louis’ chest, hiding in their room from judging eyes. Louis would distract him every so often with little kisses to his cheek and demand to know what he was reading. Of course, Louis rarely understood what Harry was talking about, but he could listen to him go on for hours and still feel completely content.

“Louis,” Zayn says, snapping Louis out of his daze. “Dude, come on. You’re holding up the line.”

A look behind him confirms that Louis is stopping a few tired looking people from getting to the coffee. He nods and whispers an apology before returning to piling his tray up with breakfast foods.

What’s sort of funny, Louis thinks, is how everyone has seemed to have fallen right back to where they sat as kids. Their table waits for them empty by the windows, always reserved just for Louis, Harry, Zayn, and Liam.

“I can’t imagine you here,” Niall says to Harry as they sit down.

Louis doesn’t like that one bit. “Why not?” he asks, obviously shocking everyone else at the table, especially Harry. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”

“Of course he’s brilliant,” Niall laughs, throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s cheeks turn a bit pink, always so humble. “I just meant he’s always been sort of shy, it must’ve been hard for him to open up.”

Harry shrugs, pretending to be very interested in his eggs. “I made friends after a bit,” he says.

Louis was his first friend here. Neither of them mention that.

“So Louis,” Niall says, smiling at him from across the table. “How’s it feel to be James Bond?”

Louis laughs and shrugs. “I mean, it’s amazing obviously. Sometimes the attention is a bit much, I’m just hoping the movie actually lives up to the hype. We worked really hard.”

They did. Louis has been in multiple films now, he’d taken the Indie world by storm and even has an Oscar to show for it. This film, though, is the one thing Louis is most proud of. He beat out tens of other more handsome and experienced young actors for this part, and his biggest fear is not being worthy of that.

“It’s an origin story, yeah?” Zayn asks. “I mean like, Bond before the Bond.”

Louis laughs and nods. “Yeah, I’m obviously not as old as Roger Moore or Sean Connery.”

“Don’t you feel origin stories are a bit overdone?”

The table goes deathly quiet. Harry’s words hang in the air between them and he’s staring at Louis, obviously expecting an answer.

Louis frowns. “What?”

Harry rolls his eyes and speaks louder. “I said, don’t you think origin stories are a bit overdone? I mean, haven’t they done it with basically every big franchise at this point?”

“H, don’t be rude,” Niall murmurs, looking a bit afraid to speak up. Zayn and Liam say nothing, watching the exchange with knowing eyes.

“I’m not being rude, I’m just asking,” Harry shoots back. “I mean, for such a big name like you Lewis, with all of your awards and nominations, isn’t it a little beneath you?”

Louis narrows his eyes. “No, Harold, I don’t actually think it is. But if you’d like to comment more on something you clearly know nothing about, do continue. I’m sure everyone here would love to hear you talk.”

“But I’m not asking everyone, I’m asking you,” Harry says, and now he’s leaning over the table. He looks enraged, eyes sparkling and taunting Louis with every word. “I’m sure it must be something you’ve thought about before. You don’t want anything holding you back, right?”

The words shock Louis enough to completely shut him up, as Harry obviously knew they would. He smiles and sits up straight again, taking a bite of sausage on his plate. He looks terribly satisfied.

Check mate, Louis supposes.

 

* * *

 

After breakfast, they’re taken on a tour of the campus, even though it has barely changed since they left.

Niall holds Harry’s hand the entire way around. Harry enjoys it, mostly because he needs the support right now.

He’s not entirely sure why he snapped at Louis like that over breakfast. He was just sick of hearing how great Louis is doing and listening to everyone else around them talk him up. Louis doesn’t deserve that, no matter how great an actor he is.

Not that Harry has seen all of his movies multiple times, or kept up with his career, or watched his acceptance speech at the Academy Awards over and over for a week until he cried. Definitely not.

Niall squeezes Harry’s hand as they walk into the library where Harry spent most of his adolescence. He makes a point to avoid Louis’ eyes as they walk through the rows of desks and books.

They had their first kiss here, between the stacks in the history section, hidden from their classmates. They had been best friends and roommates for over a year by then, they knew all of each other’s secrets, they were never parted. It had started as a joke at first, they were fooling around and play wrestling, until suddenly Louis had Harry backed up against a wall and they were staring at one another, breathless.

“Well,” Louis had said, because he was always the brave one, the one to initiate. “Are you going to kiss me Styles, or no?”

And Harry had, and it was perfect.

“You alright?” Niall whispers to him.

Harry takes a deep breath and nods. “Fine,” he replies.

Twenty more steps and they’ll be there. Ten, and then five, and suddenly they’re standing in front of one of the little rooms that juts off from the library. Inside, Harry can see the rows and rows of books and the exact place where he kissed Louis.

“And this,” their tour guide announces, gesturing to a gold plate beside the arched doorway. “Is the Tomlinson Memorial Wing, generously funded by Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry looks to where she’s pointing at the plaque and frowns. Sure enough, it bears Louis’ name and says he’s paid to have it kept up and the architecture inside restored. Of course Louis would do something stupid like that.

But no one ever said Harry wasn’t stupid as well.

“Niall,” he whispers, as others begin walking around inside the little room. “Kiss me.”

Niall frowns. “What?”

“Kiss me,” Harry repeats, looking around to see Louis is staring at him as he has been the entire day.

Niall looks confused and a bit wary. “Mate, we never said anything about-”

Harry cuts him off by dragging Niall in by the waist and planting a kiss right on his lips.

It’s the least romantic kiss Harry’s ever had in his life, and it feels so wrong he could almost puke, but he holds it in somehow. He can be quite a good actor when he wants to be. Niall tastes a bit like chicken, Harry notices, which is disconcerting as they haven’t had chicken.

When they finally pull away, Harry can see Louis absolutely glaring at them. Niall has his eyebrows raised and he’s staring at Harry in disbelief.

“Jesus,” he mutters, letting out a loud breath. “Does it always feel that terrible?”

Their tour starts up again and they’re led away from the library and out into the hall. “You should be honored to kiss me,” Harry whispers as they pass under wood arches and painted ceilings.

“Well, there goes any chance of me discovering some repressed emotions this weekend,” Niall says. “Definitely girls, all the way.”

Harry smiles and slips his hand back into Niall’s. Louis is still glaring at them while Liam tries in vain to talk to him. Part of him feels a bit bad for doing that, but he won’t let that part win out. Louis deserves to see him happy, even if he really isn’t.

He doesn’t feel bad for Louis Tomlinson, and he never will.

 

* * *

 

Louis hates Harry Styles with a passion.

Not that he’s just realizing this of course, he’s thought and said those exact words many times before. Right now, though, after having to watch Harry and his stupid boyfriend whisper and giggle and _kiss_ each other all morning, Louis is feeling murderous.

Who does Harry Styles think he is, bringing that boy here and kissing him in front of everybody?

“Niall seems nice,” Liam says as they find themselves back in the dining hall for lunch. They’ve spent all morning taking a tour of the campus, and this afternoon they’re free to wander until there’s another mixer tonight. Louis is planning on skipping that and wallowing in his room instead.

Louis glares at Liam, who is an idiot. “He seems like a prick.”

Of course there’s no basis for that. Niall has been nothing but nice to Louis since they met, even if he is holding Harry’s hand and kissing him.

“I think he’s a good guy,” Liam continues. “Harry seems happy, that’s good. Don’t you want him to be happy?”

Louis rolls his eyes. “I don’t care how Harry feels,” he lies.

Liam sighs. “You’re acting stupid,” he says. “Don’t you think it’s time the two of you talked? You should work out whatever issues you had and bury the hatchet, Lou. It isn’t good holding grudges like this.”

The problem is, Louis thinks, that this entire situation is his fault. It was Louis who broke up with Harry. Harry may have started the fights, but he didn’t intend on this outcome Louis is sure of that.

He eyes Harry, who is across the room laughing with Zayn and Niall over the pictures up on the wall. It’s supposed to be a guessing game, matching the old pictures to each person, but Harry is easy to spot. He still has the same big eyes and smile he’s had since his first day at Willard, though his curls are a bit longer and he’s grown into his chipmunk cheeks. Niall is cooing over Harry’s curls and Louis hates how jealous he is.

“We need one of those pictures to take home,” Niall is saying as they approach the table where Louis is moping. “I want to hang it on the wall, do you think Anne has a copy?”

Harry groans. “You are not hanging a photo of me on the wall in our flat, Niall. And please don’t text my mom.”

“Too late,” Niall says, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Dearest Anne-”

“No,” Harry whines.

Louis frowns and asks, “You live together?”

Harry ignores him, but that’s nothing new. They haven’t spoken to each other since their small spat this morning. In fact, Harry is making a point out of refusing to speak to Louis at all.

“Yeah,” Niall says. “We’ve lived together forever now, how long has it been H?”

Harry looks up at Louis. “Almost four years,” he says.

Shit.

“Have you been together that long?” Liam asks, sounding shocked. “Harry, why haven’t you said anything?”

Harry goes a bit pale, but Niall is quick to jump in. “No, we’ve just been flatmates and best friends until about three months ago, I think. Isn’t that right _sweetums_?”

Harry turns his stare on Niall and Niall winces like he’s been struck. “Sounds about right, _darling_ ,” he replies, his voice saccharine sweet and strained.

Niall bursts into laughter so hard he has to lay his head on Harry’s shoulder to compose himself.

So, Harry moved right from their flat to Niall’s flat, that’s fine. That’s entirely fine, except it makes Louis want to scream. Harry could’ve stayed in their flat, Louis made it abundantly clear that he would never kick Harry out onto the streets. Though Louis knew Harry moved away somewhere he couldn’t find him, he never realized it was into the arms of another man.

Louis hasn’t even been with anyone since they broke up. Not to say he’s been a saint of course, but he hasn’t had a relationship since then. Apparently, Harry was more than ready to move on.

“I’m going for a smoke,” Louis announces.

With that, he pushes himself up from the table and practically runs out of the dining hall. For a moment, he’s not sure where he’s headed, but then he spots the door to the dormitories. Without thinking, Louis pushes it open and starts up the stairs.

Though he notices the sound of footsteps following him up, he ignores it.

Their dorm for the four years they spent at Willard was at the very end of the hall on the third floor. Louis wasn’t on a scholarship, instead his father he barely knew had practically forced him to go.

 _Every Austin boy for centuries has gone to Willard, Louis,_ he had said over the phone. _And you will too._

So even though his father had the money to put Louis up in a single room far from those poor scholarship kids, Louis had refused. He might not have been able to control where he was, but he could control how he presented himself

Despite his father’s success, Louis had grown up poor. His mother raised him alone for most of his life, the only time he saw his biological father were holidays and when he got into trouble. To say they weren’t close would be an understatement. Louis didn’t want to grow up to be some stuffy banker or insurance salesman or politician, he wanted to be an actor. He didn’t want to be stuck alone in a room far from the people who understood him best, he wanted friends and a real life.

And so he found himself right where he stands now on his first day, waiting with his mum in front of the heavy wooden door with a blank whiteboard stuck to the outside. Harry was there already, sitting on his empty bed and watching his own mother unpack his things with a sad expression. Louis’ heart sped up the moment their eyes met.

“Hi,” Louis had said, once their mothers finally left. “I’m Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry had nodded. “I’m Harry Styles,” he replied, and then he’d turned around and opened a book.

They didn’t speak again for almost a week.

There’s a new board on the door now, proclaiming it as _John and Christopher_ _’s Room!!_ Louis smiles despite himself, remembering how hard he and Harry used to work on these boards.

The footsteps get closer until they abruptly stop behind him.

“What are you doing up here?”

Louis sighs. “Why did you follow me?” he asks.

No answer.

The door isn’t locked, Louis finds. He twists the knob and glances back at Harry, who looks nervous. Louis pushes the door open and takes a deep breath.

Of course it doesn’t look exactly the same. The duvets are different, their posters are long since gone, but it’s still set up just the same. Louis’ bed on the left, Harry’s on the right, their desks on either side.

So many things happened here, Louis thinks as he walks in. They had sex for the very first time in this room, rushed and messy and quiet on Louis’ bed. Louis had held Harry afterwards for hours, thinking that life could not possibly get better than it was right in that moment.

“Do you think it’s still there?” Harry asks quietly.

He doesn’t have to elaborate. Louis walks over to where there’s a mirror hanging by his old bed. Carefully, he pries it off the wall.

Names of hundreds of boys are etched and written on the wall. It’s a tradition that wasn’t supposed to be a tradition. Technically, defaming the hallowed halls of Willard would land you in detention for the rest of your life, but they always seemed to overlook the shrines to hundreds of years of roommates. It was almost encouraged, really, to leave your mark on this place.

Theirs is small, but it’s right in the middle.

_LT + HS_

There’s a tiny heart inked next to Harry’s initials, which Louis had protested. Obviously you don’t leave love notes in places where people can find them, but Harry had insisted. No one would think anything of it, surely. It’s a small heart next to their small initials, lost in the sea of names.

“God,” Harry murmurs.

Suddenly he’s standing right beside Louis, filling all of his senses. Louis had almost forgotten how beautiful Harry is, the exact color of his eyes when the light hits them, the gentle slope of his lip. Harry reaches out and traces the letters with his fingertip.

“We had no idea,” he says, eyes a bit glassy. “God.”

Louis feels choked up as well now. “Harry, I-”

“Do you ever regret it?” Harry interrupts.

Louis frowns and looks around the room once more. There’s the spot where Harry used to tutor him in every subject, there’s the spot where they would spend hours making out, there’s the spot they decided to take Louis’ inheritance and move in together.

“Which part?” he asks.

Harry laughs, dragging his finger over the _L._ “All of it. Falling in love with me.”

“I could never regret that,” Louis replies in an unconscious bout of honesty. “Harry, please.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, taking a step back. Louis feels cold. “Okay, I’m going to go.”

Louis shakes his head. “Wait, please,” he begs. They need to talk. As much as Harry hates him, Louis knows they both want closure. He needs to explain, he needs to ask if Harry thinks of him as often as Louis does.

Harry takes one last look around the room, eyes dragging across every inch like he’s memorizing it. When their eyes finally meet, there are tears on his cheeks.

“I know, Louis,” he says.

And then he’s gone, walking out the door and down the hall while Louis is left alone to run his fingers over the walls and curse every mistake he’s ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I specialize in sad boys making mistakes, apparently :)
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/amoriess/playlist/47sFlfh2zdN1Skqx7VWpsH)| [tumblr](http://amories.tumblr.com) | [rebloggable post](http://amories.tumblr.com/post/162514325302/take-me-back-to-where-we-started-by-amory)


	4. Chapter 4

Somehow, Harry finds himself in a pub.

Of course it was Niall’s suggestion that instead of staying at the school tonight they should sneak out. The closest pub is in the tiny town a few miles outside of Willard, and it’s just as Harry remembers from all the times Louis forced him to sneak out there.

It’s mostly empty for a Saturday night, with just a few regulars playing pool and hanging around the bar. Niall loves it instantly, because of course he does. It’s exactly his scene, Harry thinks with a smirk.

“I need a pint,” Niall declares as the five of them walk in. “Round’s on me boys.”

They claim a table for themselves at the back, Harry making a point to stand between Zayn and Liam and away from Louis. He still isn’t sure what possessed him to follow Louis earlier. Something deep in him demanded he go, demanded that he follow the angry boy out into the hall and up into the room that isn’t theirs anymore. Guilt, maybe. Guilt at the fact that he so enjoyed hurting Louis with his words.

And Louis had apologized to him, which Harry supposes he should have. After all, it’s his fault they’re in this situation. Harry can’t stop watching him, though, can’t make his eyes tear away from Louis who still seems upset.

“H, Niall’s a really great guy,” Zayn says.

Harry smiles, eying Niall who has struck up a conversation with the bartender. “Yeah he is,” he says, and he means it. Niall’s probably one of the best friends Harry has ever had in his life.

“Do you work together?” Louis asks.

Harry looks up, shocked. They haven’t had a civil conversation all day.

“Kind of,” Harry answers. “I’m teaching classes while I finish my masters degree, and Niall’s researching. He likes to bother me more than anything, sometimes I don't think he ever works.”

Niall scoffs as he approaches, obviously hearing what Harry said. “Are you shit talking me?” he asks.

“Never,” Harry says with a smile.

Niall laughs and rolls his eyes. He sets the tray of pints down and each boy grabs one. “Your students love me,” he says. “Almost as much as they love you.”

Harry feels his cheeks going red. “Shut up,” he mutters.

“Oh, they _love_ this one,” Niall continues, much to the enjoyment of the other boys. “I hear them talking every semester. _Take a class with Professor Styles, he_ _’s so fit!”_

“Professor Styles?” Louis asks, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Harry groans louder, wishing he were anywhere but here with Louis staring at him like that. “I tell them on the first day to call me Harry, Professor Styles makes me sound about a thousand years old.”

“It does,” Zayn laughs. “God, do you remember that awful English teacher we had? He made everyone call him Professor Smith, what a nightmare that man was.”

Liam nods. “He was absolutely miserable! I think he’s dead now, no way he couldn’t be. Wasn’t he, like, 100 when we were 14?”

“He isn’t dead,” Harry says.

“How do you know?” Liam asks.

Harry shrugs, running his finger over the lip of his glass. “We still talk,” he says. “We email. He’s only in his eighties now, by the way.”

All four boys burst into laughter, even Niall who didn’t know the man one bit.

“You _email_ him?” Zayn chokes out.

Harry frowns at their words. “Just because you three have the collective attention span of a goldfish doesn’t mean the rest of us didn’t enjoy his class. I’ll have you know, he’s actually a very respected writer. I had him speak to one of my literature classes last semester, he was wonderful.”

Louis smiles at him knowingly from across the table. “You were always such a teacher’s pet.”

“Was he?” Niall asks, sounding interested immediately.

Louis nods. “God, it was awful. And then I always got the, _Louis why can_ _’t you be more like Harry?_ routine from all of our teachers. He set high expectations for everyone.”

“We all got that,” Zayn adds. “Every single boy in our class. No one was as good as Harry.”

“Aw, babe,” Niall laughs. “Don’t be embarrassed, I always knew you were a little nerd.”

Louis’ smile is gone in an instant, as if he’s just now remembering Niall exists. Harry lets the smile on his face fall as well and reaches for his beer while Liam and Niall talk.

The pub starts to fill up a bit more as the night goes on, people trickling in from both Willard and the town itself. It’s a Saturday night after all, and Harry assumes even people in small towns need to blow off some steam.

He limits himself to two pints and nothing more, mostly because he doesn’t want to deal with the headache in the morning, but also because Niall’s making it his mission to get absolutely shit faced. Louis, apparently, has decided to join him on that.

They were together the first time either of them ever got drunk. Harry had just gotten back from spending the weekend of his 16th birthday at home, only to find his older sister had snuck a bottle of wine into his bag. She labeled it a gift, but Harry just about cried when she saw it.

“I’m never going to be able to hide this! They’re going to find it during room check and expel me,” he had moaned. “Louis, help me, we have to do something with it.”

Louis had approached his bed and looked down at the bottle with a mischievous smile. “Well Styles, seems like the only solution is to drink it all and get rid of the evidence.”

Harry’s eyes had gone wide. “We can’t drink it all!”

But drink it all they had, every last drop.

And maybe it was Harry’s drunken mind at work, but he was sure he’d never seen Louis more beautiful than he was that night. Giggly and flushed, Louis had decided to turn his radio on and dance for Harry, even though it was well past lights out. Watching his body move and his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he got lost in the music was too much for Harry’s 16 year old hormones to handle.

He should be able to handle it now, he thinks as he watches Louis dance with Zayn to a song neither of them seem to know. No one else is dancing but them and Louis is trying desperately to sing along, but it’s obvious he doesn’t know the words. He’s mostly resorted to shouting _Oi, oi!_ at the top of his lungs to get everyone around him to join in.

It’s a small moment of tranquility, watching Louis dance like that. He looks so carefree and happy, just like the Louis Harry knew. Just like the Louis Harry had loved.

But it’s all ruined as soon as Harry sees Louis flirting with someone else. It’s a man from town, someone Harry doesn’t know, and it makes him uneasy.

Of course he’s jealous, how could he not be jealous watching that man put his hand on Louis’ elbow, watching them grow closer and closer over the bar. He’s saying something about how much he loves Louis’ movies, and Louis is laughing, and then suddenly the man has his phone out.

“I have to go over there,” Harry says.

Niall, who is standing beside him, scowls. “What? No, Harry, leave him.”

“No, I have to stop him,” Harry repeats, narrowing his eyes at the man touching Louis and Louis touching him back.

Niall sighs, moving to stand in front of Harry and block his view. “Babe,” he says. “The entire reason we’re here is to make Louis jealous, remember? Don’t you think it’s a bit fucked if you try to stop him fighting back?”

But that isn’t it. Well, okay, it is a bit. Something burns deep within him watching Louis flirt with someone else. But really, that’s not why he pushes Niall out of the way stalks over to the bar with a scowl. 

“Louis,” he says, standing at the man’s back. “Can we talk?”

Louis frowns up at him. “I’m talking to someone, Harry.”

“We need to talk,” Harry says, and then when it’s obvious Louis is going to refuse, he turns to glare at the man flirting with him.

The man looks back, obviously confused, but the tips of his ears are burning red like he knows what Harry saw.

“Delete that picture you just took of him,” Harry growls.

It’s obvious that the man knows what he’s talking about, but he still tries to look confused. “Mate, what?” he asks, feigning innocence.

“Delete it,” Harry says. “Now. Don’t think I didn’t see you, I’m not an idiot.”

Part of Harry is sure he’s going to refuse and run off with that picture of Louis flirting and draped all over him. A pointed glare gets him to finally sigh and pull his phone back out. He deletes the picture he had taken of Louis, drunk and vulnerable and in a position that could easily be seen for exactly what it was. Harry makes sure it’s really gone and he hasn’t sent it off to anywhere else before telling him to fuck off.

“What was that?” Louis demands when Harry turns back around.

“You’re welcome,” Harry replies.

Louis rolls his eyes and scoffs. “I don’t need you to save me, Styles. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“Sure didn’t fucking look like it,” Harry shoots back. He’s angry now, angry that Louis doesn’t seem to understand that Harry’s just done something to protect him.

“Well I can,” Louis says. “Who the fuck do you think you are, cock blocking me like that? Are you jealous, Harry?”

Harry rolls his eyes, trying not to let it show. “No,” he lies.

Louis barks out a laugh. “You are, aren’t you? Is that little blond not doing it for you, baby? Doesn’t know you like I do, does he?”

Harry goes red. “Fuck you, Louis,” he spits. “I’m sorry I ever came here, I’m sorry I ever tried to fucking help you. You’ve always been such an ungrateful asshole, I’m not sure why I even bothered.”

With that, Harry turns and storms out of the pub.

He doesn’t make it far. It’s snowing again, softly and seeming to melt before it ever touches the ground, but still there. Harry stops outside in the cold, leaning up against the stone wall of the pub. God, he feels like such an idiot. An idiot for caring, for being jealous, for ever coming here in the first place.

“Harry,” Louis shouts as he comes stumbling outside as well. “I’m not done talking to you, get back here.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head. “No, Louis, fuck you. Go back in there, maybe your boyfriend is still waiting.”

“What did you mean help me?” Louis asks drunkenly. “You think I need your help?”

“He had a picture of you, Louis,” Harry says. “What do you think he was going to do with it, huh? Because I know for a fact that you aren’t out. Actually, I’m pretty sure you have a girlfriend.”

Louis stumbles and his face goes white. “What?” he asks.

“You aren’t out,” Harry repeats, in case Louis has somehow forgotten. “As far as the world knows, you’re straight. I don’t care who you are, no one should ever be forced to come out like that. It has nothing to do with me giving a shit about you, it has everything to do with trying to be a decent human being.”

Louis looks shocked, which hurts honestly. Harry realizes they haven’t spoken in four years, and they didn’t exactly end on great terms, but still. Louis should know what kind of person he is, what kind of person Harry’s always been.

“You-really?” Louis whispers.

“Yes, really,” Harry says. “I know you probably think I’m some awful piece of shit, but I’m not that low of a human being to out someone without their consent.”

The words seem to stun Louis even more.

“Harry, I never thought you would-”

“Didn’t you, though?” Harry asks, narrowing his eyes at the other man. “Or was that call four years ago meant for some other boy whose heart you’d just broken?”

They stare at one another for a moment, the world silent around them in the falling snow. The street lights and the moon bathe them in orange, but Louis still looks beautiful. Even drunk and in shitty lighting, Louis looks straight out of a magazine. Sometimes Harry forgets who Louis is now, and then it hits him out of nowhere.

“H,” Louis says, letting the nickname slip like it’s nothing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, what call?”

“The call that I got from your fucking manager, Jenny what’s-her-face telling me if I didn’t keep my mouth shut I’d be sued, because you think I’m such a lowlife that I would out you,” Harry says, his voice getting louder and louder as he just gets angrier. The memory of the call stings now just as much as it had four years ago. “After everything we went through together, after how much I loved you, you thought I would do that to you. Maybe it is better we broke up when we did, Louis, because it’s obvious you never trusted me. I don’t know why I was ever surprised.”

Louis looks stunned, but Harry is over this conversation. He pulls his coat tighter around his body and starts walking down the street, ignoring the bite of the snow as it hits his face.

“Harry!” Louis yells. “Harry, wait, where are you going?”

And without thinking, Harry yells back, “Home!”

But Willard isn’t his home anymore. Louis is not his home anymore. This isn’t his _life_ anymore, he hardly knows the man yelling at him right now.

“I’m going back,” he corrects himself.

Harry keeps walking down the street, trudging through the snow while Louis follows.

“You can’t walk all the way back there,” Louis calls after him. “You’ll freeze your toes off, Harold. Get back here.”

Harry rolls his eyes. They’ve made this walk plenty of times before, drunker than either of them are now. He’ll be fine. Snow crunches loudly behind him and suddenly Louis is pulling on his arm.

“Harry, I said stop,” he says, like he has any right to tell Harry what to do.

“Let go of me,” Harry says, wrenching his arm away.

“No,” Louis says, tugging on Harry’s sleeve. “Stop it, you absolute idiot. You’re going to die out here in the snow, and then I’ll have to listen to your stupid perfect boyfriend talk about how much he loved you at your funeral.”

Harry frowns, pulling his arm back once more. “What makes you think you’d be invited to my funeral?”

“I would,” Louis says stubbornly. “Stop walking so I can talk to you, you stubborn arse. God, you haven’t changed a bit have you? You’ve always been too damn stubborn for your own good. Just listen to me, please.”

Harry stops, finally, and turns so they’re both staring at one another in the middle of the street. Louis is obviously drunk, though Harry can’t tell if it’s the cold or the alcohol that has his cheeks so flushed. It brings him back in an instant to so many nights before this one, nights where Louis was kissing him where no one could see instead of yelling at him.

“I never told anyone to do that,” Louis says. “I never told anyone to call you and say those things, Harry, god. Even when we broke up, I never thought for even a moment that you would do that to me. As angry as you were, I knew you’d never, ever do something like that.”

Harry wipes at his eyes, which he swears are stinging from the cold air and no other reason. “Did you?” he asks. “Because that’s part of the reason we broke up. It wouldn’t be such a stretch to say you’d believe that of me.”

“Harry,” Louis murmurs. “Breaking up with you was the single greatest mistake of my life. I was surrounded by awful people who made me think it would be better for the both of us, but it wasn’t. Not for me, at least. Not a day has gone by where I didn’t miss you, where I didn’t think of you.”

Harry shakes his head. “You’re only saying this because you’re drunk,” he says. “You’ll go back to hating me in the morning.”

“I could never hate you, Harry,” Louis says softly.

There’s no chance for Harry to reply to that. A horn honks behind them and they both look up to see Liam’s car slowing down beside them. The window in the back rolls down and Niall sticks his head out.

“Harry, Louis,” he yells, though they’re not at all far from him. “What are you doing out here, we looked everywhere for you! Get in the car.”

Harry sighs at his drunken fake boyfriend and pushes past Louis to open the door. He hesitates for a moment, and turns before he can lose his nerve.

“You know what the worst part is?” he says, quietly so the other boys don’t hear. “I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I waited for you, for weeks I waited for you to come back and say you made a mistake. I was willing to forgive everything, I was willing to give up everything just to be with you. All you ever had to do was ask.”

With that, Harry turns and gets into the car. He pushes his face into Niall’s shoulder and spends the entire ride back ignoring everyone around them and wishing he hadn’t said anything at all.

 

* * *

 

Louis found out his father died sitting in this very spot.

A plain wooden bench outside the offices that house their headmaster, nurse, secretaries, right in front of the gymnasium doors. He’d been called out of class, sure he was in trouble for something, and had been sat down on this bench to receive a phone call from his mother.

His father was dead, yet Louis felt nothing.

Relief, maybe, as awful as it sounds. Freedom.

Not that Louis wanted to leave Willard anymore, he’d quickly gotten over that after meeting Harry and the rest of his friends. But he was no longer held to his father’s expectations.

_You don't have to be particularly good at maths to be a solicitor Louis._

_You act like you don't care about your future Louis._

_The arts are no way to make a living Louis._

Gone in one fell swoop. Or one fell heart attack, really.

Harry had seemed more upset about it than Louis ever was. He held him for no real reason, promised that everything would be okay, that Louis wasn’t a bad person for not crying.

“Lou.”

Louis looks up to see Zayn standing in front of him, frowning.

“You okay?” he asks.

Louis sighs and runs his hand over the bench. “I’m okay, just needed to take a breather.”

They’ve had them in that awful gymnasium all day, playing games with their former classmates. Ice breakers, trivia, even karaoke. Everyone else seems to be having fun, Harry seemed to be having the time of his life. Everything Niall does makes him laugh, they’d won the trivia competition by a landslide, and when Louis had left they’d been killing karaoke.

But Louis can’t look at Harry anymore without hearing the words he’d whispered the night before.

_I waited for you._

It’s torturous thinking about it. If Louis had come to his senses sooner, they wouldn't be in this mess.

“Come on, Lou,” Zayn murmurs, taking a seat beside him. He throws his arm over Louis’ shoulder and hugs him. “Tell me what’s going on, yeah?”

Louis sighs and presses his forehead to Zayn’s shoulder. Just like old times. Zayn’s always been the one Louis went to when he and Harry were having trouble. Zayn and Liam were the only ones at school who ever knew anything was going on between Louis and Harry, the only ones they trusted.

“I’ve made so many mistakes,” Louis whispers. “So many.”

“Yeah, but I suppose we all have,” Zayn murmurs. “We’re a lot different from the kids we used to be. Five years feels like a lifetime sometimes.”

Louis laughs. “You have no idea. You’re a fucking artist, Z, a real artist.”

“You’ve got a fucking Oscar, Lou.”

“I didn’t deserve that,” Louis mutters. “There were better people for it. They only gave it to me because my performance was _gritty_. Gritty doesn’t translate to good.”

Zayn barks out a laugh that echoes in the empty hallway. “Are you going to give it back, then?” he asks.

“They’ll have to pry it from my cold dead hands,” Louis replies.

The door to the gym bangs open and Liam appears. He smiles at the two of them a bit drunkenly. As payback for being their designated driver last night and wrangling their drunk asses back here, he’s decided to get smashed at this mixer. A wild man, Louis thinks with a smile.

“Guys, come on,” Liam whines. “You have to be here for this next part.”

Louis sighs and squeezes Zayn’s hand before getting to his feet.

“Thank you,” he says. “For checking on me, I mean.”

Zayn smiles and claps him on the back. “What are friends for, Lou?”

They walk into the gymnasium together where they find all of their old classmates crowding around their old history teacher. She has a box set on a table and is calling names out as she sifts through it.

“What’s going on?” Louis asks as he walks up to where Liam, Niall, and Harry are all waiting.

Liam waves an envelope around and smiles. “Don’t you remember, Lou? It’s our letters.”

Realization hits Louis hard.

Shit.

“Harry!” the woman calls out with a smile. “Come get yours, dear. Louis, yours is next.”

Of course it is.

Louis follows Harry up to their old professor who gives them each a smile followed by a letter. Louis looks down at his own handwriting from five years ago, scratchy and covered in little doodles. Someone’s drawn a smiley face by his name, and Louis realizes Harry must’ve done it.

“Five years ago, we asked all of you to write a letter to yourself,” Headmaster Richards announces to the room at large. “As it is our last night here at Willard, we felt it appropriate to return them to you. Inside are your hopes and dreams and goals, the things you wished to accomplish in five years time. We hope that you’ll enjoy reading them.”

Louis certainly won’t, he can guarantee it.

He soon finds himself standing with the other boys. Zayn and Liam have ripped theirs open and are reading through them with laughter and smiles. Harry is staring at his with sad eyes while Niall rubs his back and coaxes him to open it.

Louis looks back down at his envelope. Better now than never, he supposes. He carefully rips it open and is surprised when two pictures fall out.

They’re polaroids, he realizes with a smile. Harry’s mum had bought him one for Christmas their last year of school, and Harry had gone crazy with it, taking pictures of everything he found, every moment of their lives for those last few months together. Every moment of their lives beyond that point, too, though Louis doesn’t know where those memories have gone.

The first is a picture of the four of them on the floor of Liam’s dorm room. Harry’s taking the picture from an angle so they can all be seen. Liam is poking his head in from the side and smiling, Zayn is holding up both hands in peace signs like he’s too cool for any of them, and Louis has one arm draped over Harry’s shoulder. They all look so happy.

The bottom of the photo says _Best Mates!!_ _’11_ in Harry’s blocky handwriting.

When he looks at the next picture, he almost wishes he hadn’t. It’s nothing too suggestive of course, Louis remembers being too paranoid someone would open these letters before they ever got them and see them kissing or something.

But still, Harry is sitting in Louis’ lap, Louis with his arm wrapped around the boy’s waist, chin hooked on Harry’s shoulder. They’re both smiling but Louis is looking at Harry instead of the camera.

_to the moon and back,_ it reads.

“I think we’re going to head up for the night,” Niall says. “Harry’s not feeling too well.”

Liam pouts at both of them. “Harry, I told you to be careful of the food. You never know how long it’s been left out.”

Harry smiles at him and nods. “You were right, Li, should’ve listened.”

Niall wraps his arm around Harry’s waist and leans his head on Harry’s shoulder. “Come on love, let’s get you upstairs,” he whispers.

They leave the room, shortly followed by Zayn who leads a drunkenly reluctant Liam up to bed. Soon, Louis finds himself one of the only people left in the gymnasium, save for one couple dutifully swaying on the dance floor.

He takes a seat in one of the plastic chairs set up by the food table and takes a deep breath before finally pulling his letter out and reading it.

_Dear Louis,_

_Mate._

_I don_ _’t know what I’m supposed to be writing here. I left it off all weekend but now Harry’s glaring at me and saying I need to do my homework, even if I do have an audition for a tv pilot in a week. He says I can’t just put all my eggs in one basket, because he talks like a nan. He doesn’t think I’m not gonna get it though, even though I probably won’t. I know he’s just worried I won’t have anything to fall back on if my grades are shitty, which they are already, so I guess it’s late. Harry’s usually right though. You probably know that, Future Louis._

_How_ _’s the future? Do you have a floating car? Shit Harry’s saying we’re getting this in five years so no floating cars probably. I hope if there is one we get it though._

_How_ _’s Harry? He’s all worried about moving out soon and starting that big fancy uni of his. I mean, I know he’s brilliant but I think he forgets sometimes. I hope you remind him a lot still like I do. He needs reminding sometimes._

_Are you still in the same flat? We just picked it out a couple days ago. I think we_ _’re probably going to be moved by the time you read this, even though Harry loves that flat. Probably to some big fancy mansion once I’m a big fancy actor. Harry says we don’t need a mansion but the kid deserves a mansion after spending all his time working his arse off here. I think I’m mostly excited about not having someone check on us all the time. We can come and go whenever we want, do whatever we want. It’s gonna be great._

_If you_ _’re reading this and you aren’t a super famous actor I’m going to be very disappointed. I hope I’m doing something amazing five years from now I hope I’m not just living off that trust fund and sleeping all day but that seems like a possibility. God I hope I get this pilot. Did I get it? Let me know mate._

_I_ _’m supposed to write my goals for the future but no ones going to read this but me so I guess no one will know if I don’t. Shit maybe I should now Harry’s glaring at me again. So, goals: become an actor, be the best, marry Harry Styles. Three’s a good number of goals I think. Harry probably has twenty. Liam probably has one. Three’s a good middle number._

_Okay I have to go eat dinner now and this is long enough to make my teacher think I did something._

_Don_ _’t let me down Future Louis!!_

_-Past Louis_

Through misty eyes, Louis looks down to the bottom of the page. _I love you_ is scrawled in one corner in Harry’s handwriting. Louis feels close to puking.

He didn’t get that pilot, or the next couple of auditions either. He started with commercials, which turned into appearing in some student films, which turned into getting roles in low budget indie movies that caught someone’s eye over the span of a year.

The casting director of _Through The Dark_ to be specific. An indie movie about a boy struggling through addiction and his strained family and girlfriend relationships. A film that went further than anyone thought it would, farther than it should have. A film that won him his Oscar, changed his life, and cost him his relationship with Harry.

He’s let himself down, he realizes with a sniffle. Sure, he’s an actor now, he’s successful, he has that big fancy mansion, and cars, and he’s not living off his trust fund. Hell, he’s James Bond, who saw that coming?

But he doesn’t have what he wanted more than anything, the only thing Louis from five years ago seemed to be entirely sure about.

Louis doesn’t have Harry, and it’s entirely his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/amoriess/playlist/47sFlfh2zdN1Skqx7VWpsH) | [tumblr](http://amories.tumblr.com) | [rebloggable post](http://amories.tumblr.com/post/162514325302/take-me-back-to-where-we-started-by-amory)


	5. Chapter 5

After rescuing Harry from having to read about his crushed hopes and dreams in front of his successful ex-boyfriend, Niall’s gone on a rant about Christmas. He’s currently sitting at the desk in front of the window, watching the snow fall outside while he muses about what his mother might make him.

“And I still think we should’ve gotten a tree,” Niall’s saying as Harry reads over the letter.

He lets out a laugh and shrugs. “We left before it was even close to Christmas, Ni, it would’ve been dead by the time we got back to the flat. I let you put up lights and tinsel.”

“You’re a Grinch,” Niall says, looking at Harry over his shoulder. “What made your heart shrink, Grinch?”

Harry pastes on a smile, because that’s a joke. Replying earnestly would just make Niall worry. It’s obvious he’s already worrying, a lot actually, and Harry doesn’t want to make it worse.

He looks down at the envelope in his hands, a polaroid sitting in his palm. It’s of Louis in his bed, sleeping with his hair mussed up, mouth hanging slightly open. He looks young, his skin tan and unmarred by tattoos, hair shorter than it is now. Harry can’t stop his smile at the memory, but quickly stows the photo away.

He turns back to his letter, reading the short list he has right in the middle.

_Goals:_

_-Write a book_

_-Marry Louis Tomlinson_

Harry can’t help but laugh.

“I wasn’t a very ambitious kid,” he says, though that isn’t true.

Niall hums and walks across the room, taking a seat behind Harry and looking over his shoulder. He smiles when he sees the short list and shrugs.

“Well, you’ve done one of those things,” he points out. “Don’t know about that other one, though, he doesn’t much seem like the marrying type.”

Harry sighs, letting his fingers run over the bumps his careful penmanship has left in the parchment. “I guess you’re right,” he murmurs. “But just because I’ve written a book doesn’t mean anything is going to happen.”

Niall rubs Harry’s shoulder. “I thought you sent it off?” he asks.

Harry nods and shrugs. “I did but, um-I don’t know. It feels kind of wrong now, after being back here. Seeing Louis again. I never thought I’d see him again, we don’t exactly run in the same circles.”

Niall laughs. “That’s an understatement. I’ve been googling, you know, doing some deep digging and investigation.”

“Investigation?” Harry asks, biting down on his lip to stop a smile.”

Standing up once more, Niall walks over to his bag and changes into his pajamas. He then turns on Harry, looking ridiculous as usual. A shirt that definitely belongs to Harry stretches over his chest, and he’s wearing these awful fuzzy pants that look a bit like he’s skinned a lamb. Niall puts his hands on his hips, obviously trying to appear very serious.

“Yes, investigation,” he says. “ _Private_ investigation, you could say. Real spy shit.”

Harry does laugh at that, shaking his head as he looks back down at his letter. “You’re so full of shit, Ni.”

“He broke up with his girlfriend,” Niall reveals. “Did you know that?”

“She was a beard, Niall, Louis is gay,” Harry mutters. It feels weird saying it out loud after biting his tongue on this exact subject for so long.

Niall actually looks surprised at that. “Is he? I thought he was bisexual, at least. All those promo pictures for Bond, he looks very straight.”

“He’s an actor,” Harry replies, deadpan. “As far as I know, Louis is gay. Besides, you could obviously tell they weren’t really together. Just look at the way he looks at her.”

That’s an admission of guilt, Harry realizes too late. He’s basically admitted that he pays attention when he sees Louis’ name in the papers, when he shows up on computer screens and in his twitter feed. Shit.

“You an expert in body language now?” Niall asks.

“When it comes to Louis, yes,” Harry say.

Niall hums, looking Harry over for a moment, icy blue eyes looking deep in thought. Finally, he announces, “You’re still in love with him, Harry, you realize that don’t you?”

“Of course I realize that,” Harry shoots back with a scowl. “You think I don’t know how fucking pathetic that is?”

Niall frowns, relaxing his pose. “Babe, I’m not calling you pathetic,” he says. “I’m only saying that it hurts watching how badly this is hurting you. Maybe this was a bad idea, coming here. I thought it was just going to be banter, you know? Just a laugh, making some ex jealous-not this. This is painful to watch. You two need to sit down and talk all of this out before we leave.”

“Why?” Harry asks.

Niall rolls his eyes. “Harry, this isn’t just some high school sweetheart shit, okay? It’s like, _real_ love, like _shit people search for all their lives_ kinda love-and you know that. Hell, you knew that even five years ago. What you and Louis had was deep, and it’s obvious that it’s still hurting you.”

“Of course it’s still hurting me, I never wanted this! I never wanted him to leave me, I never wanted this to happen. If we had it my way, this never would’ve happened.”

Not that Harry can be sure of that. Maybe something else would’ve happened, maybe it would have been him breaking it off instead of Louis. Who’s to say they were really supposed to be together forever, like they always dreamed? Everything has to come to an end at some point, maybe they’d run their course.

Niall gives Harry this pitiful look that makes him want to disappear. “Is this why you were such a depressive asshole when we met?” he asks.

“Well, my boyfriend of three years had just left me out of nowhere, so yeah Ni, that’s a bit it.” Harry mutters, glancing back down to his lap.

_Are you married to Louis now? I bet he's doing something amazing. He doubts himself a lot but I know he's going to be great. He says the same thing about me but I think it's just something he says because he thinks he has to._

Harry hates his younger self for being so weak, so willing to throw his life away for a boy.

“I’m going for a walk,” he announces, folding his letter up neatly and putting it in his back pocket.

Niall frowns, tailing after him as he puts his coat on and wraps his favorite scarf around his neck. “H, come on. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t,” Harry says, and he means it. “I’ve upset myself. I’ll be back later, don’t wait up.”

 

* * *

 

It’s been a very long time since Louis’ been out this late at Willard. It feels wrong in a way that sort of sits heavy in his chest with nostalgia. It feels wrong that he doesn’t have Harry, Liam, or Zayn at his side whispering about not getting caught. It feels wrong confidently opening doors and stepping outside, not creeping around every corner, keeping an eye out for anyone that might send him back to bed with a detention slip.

It’s so quiet, only Louis wandering the open halls and snow falling in soft puffs of white. It sticks tonight, covering the grounds so they sparkle in the light of the moon. Louis didn’t realize just how much he missed this place until he got back, walked the same halls that he did when things were so much different.

Louis walks until he finds himself facing the grounds behind the school. There’s a set of footprints in the snow, the only things disturbing the sheet of white that seems to go on forever. Before Louis realizes what he’s doing, he starts following them.

As he expected, they lead to the football pitch. It doesn’t look much like one now, covered in snow as it is, but Louis spent enough of his life here to know it on sight. Surrounded by trees that block it from view at the school, the pitch sits on a hill with tall lights that would usually bathe the area in artificial light.

Someone’s laying right in the middle of the pitch, arms stretched out and face turned to the sky.

Louis walks closer, fitting his feet into the tracks left before him until he finds himself standing over Harry.

He has his eyes closed, pink lips hanging slightly open, breath turning foggy as it hits the cold air. A hat covers his curls, but Louis can see a few peeking out around his ears, and he’s wearing a scarf that makes Louis pause.

That’s his scarf, he realizes with a start.

“If you’re dead Harold, I’ll kill you,” Louis says.

Harry sighs. “Unfortunately, I’m still alive.”

Louis scowls. “Don’t fucking say shit like that, Harry.”

Harry opens his eyes to stare at Louis for a moment. As usual, he takes Louis’ breath away. There was a point where Louis was sure Harry could not get any more beautiful, but this weekend has proved him wrong.

“Can you move?” Harry asks. “You’re blocking the view.”

Louis looks up, and sure enough the sky is clear enough to see the stars. It’s been ages since Louis has been able to see the stars, ages since he’s been anywhere other than a city long enough to notice.

He moves out of Harry’s view and thinks for a moment. This wasn’t in his plan, coming out here. He just needed a moment, needed to take a walk, take a breather from all of the memories and the pain. Of course there are memories here, though, but maybe he should start facing them head on instead of hiding.

Louis lays down beside Harry, ignoring the way the snow starts seeping in through his jeans the minute his legs touch the ground. He spreads out just as Harry has, and their fingers brush for a moment. Harry’s are stone cold and pink from spending so long in the snow, and Louis realizes this is the first time they’ve touched in four years.

“I like your scarf,” Louis says.

Harry pushes himself deeper into the blue fabric, cheeks flushing pink. “It’s my favorite one,” he murmurs.

“It’s mine,” Louis replies, though he knows Harry knows that. Louis bought that scarf ages ago, to match his uniform in the winter. Harry used to say that the deep blue of it brought out his eyes, so he held on to it even after they left.

Louis doesn’t expect for Harry to actually reply.

“When you left,” he whispers. “It was one of the only things I had that smelled like you. Your cologne, your cigarettes, just _you_. I suppose it isn’t healthy holding onto it this way, but I suppose I’m not quite healthy.”

Louis doesn’t know what to say.

“Harry, I-”

“I wrote a book,” Harry interrupts.

Louis can’t help but smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Harry says. “I sent a few query letters off before I left for this, which is terrifying. It’s fictional, but it’s sort of inspired by my life.”

Pride floods through Louis at the thought of Harry writing a novel, having it published. He always had stories he worked on, little things here and there that Louis sometimes found written on notebook paper in their dorm. Louis always knew he’d do it, not matter how much Harry protested.

“That’s great, Harry, really.”

“Thanks,” Harry sighs. “I just figured I should tell you because there’s a character in it that’s inspired by you. Figured I should ask your permission.”

Louis shrugs against the cold snow at his back. “I don’t care, H.”

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, picking at the end of his scarf with pink fingers. “I mean, all the names are changed and everything. The chances of anyone tracing it back to you are really slim. No one knows who I am, and it’s not like it’s going to definitely be published anyway.”

Louis closes his eyes for a moment to just breathe. When he opens them again, he finds Harry’s turned his head to stare at him.

“If I tell you something,” Louis murmurs. “Do you promise not to tell anyone?”

Harry laughs, his nose scrunching up. “When have I ever spilled a secret.”

And he’s right, Louis thinks. Harry has kept every secret Louis has ever told him.

“I’m coming out,” Louis reveals, and it feels like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “That’s why they broke off the relationship with Danielle, from the movie. My team figures like, I’m already Bond yeah? It’s not exactly like they can go back on it now that people will know I’m gay. If anything, it’s probably going to drum up more press and attention for the film.”

Harry doesn’t answer for a moment, but Louis can practically feel the anger radiating off of him. He’s scowling, eyes narrowed and glaring at Louis.

“Harry,” Louis starts.

“No, Louis, no. I’m really glad that you can be gay now that it’s convenient for your career. I’m glad that there’s nothing holding you back anymore,” Harry spits, voice full of venom. He sits up, snow clinging to his back, and starts standing up to leave.

But he can’t leave, Louis thinks. This is their last night here, the last chance either of them might get to talk to one another alone. He surges up and reaches out for Harry’s hand without thinking.

Their fingers touch and Harry pulls away like he’s been shocked.

“Harry,” Louis says, pulling his hand back as well. “Stop, please don’t go. I want to talk to you, I need to apologize. I need to talk before you just go away again and I never see you.”

Harry wraps his arms around himself, but doesn’t try to stand up again. He doesn’t turn around to face Louis, but Louis will take him actually listening over anything.

“Why?” Harry asks. “You seemed perfectly fine with it the last time, just leaving me in that fucking flat alone. Telling me I could stay there like I’m some kind of fucking charity case to you.”

“You aren’t a charity case,” Louis murmurs.

“Well, you treated me like one,” Harry says, his voice starting to sound thick. “You got that offer and they said you had to go to LA and you dropped me like I was nothing. But oh, don’t worry Harry! You can still live in the flat I bought and maybe be around for me to fuck when I need to, like some kind of kept boy.”

Louis’ eyes grow wide. “Harry, what the fuck? That isn’t at all what I was telling you. I loved you, H, I wasn’t just going to throw you out on the streets because things changed. That flat was just as much yours as it was mine.”

Harry laughs, turning his face up to the sky for a moment. “ _Because things changed_ ,” he repeats with an air of disbelief. “It was always your flat, you bought it, not me.”

“I bought it for us.”

“And there was no us anymore.”

Louis sighs and buries his head in his hands, trying to think of what to say. “Babe-”

Harry whips his head around, glaring at Louis so severely that it’s a bit scary. “Don’t fucking call me that,” he growls.

“Sorry,” Louis says quickly. “I’m sorry, it slipped out. I didn’t mean to.”

Harry stares at him for a moment longer before turning around again. He shakes his head and says, “We were bad for each other.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” Louis says.

Harry doesn’t reply. Instead, he reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out an envelope. He reaches in for a paper that he unfolds and Louis can see his neat handwriting covering both the front and back. Harry’s hands are shaking as he smooths it out.

“ _If Louis does get this pilot he'll probably have to move to film it_ ,” he reads. “ _And if he moves, I suppose that means I'll have to move too. It'd be hard to start uni somewhere else if I have to, but if it means Louis is happy I'll do it_ -do you hear that, Louis? That's disgusting. Do you know how hard I worked to get into uni? How hard I studied, and slaved away, and I was just going to give that up for you!”

It sounds ridiculous, and Louis would almost believe Harry’s making it up if the evidence wasn’t staring him in the face. He never realized Harry felt that way. Education always came first to Harry, as it should have. He's absolutely brilliant, and Louis has always believed nothing should stand in the way of him and his dreams.

“You were seventeen when you wrote that, Harry. I never would’ve let you give up everything for me, I thought I made that clear.”

Harry laughs, folding the letter up again and stowing it back in his pocket. “Yeah, you made that pretty clear when you told me I was holding you back.”

 _This again_ , Louis thinks.

“That wasn’t right to say, Harry, and I’m sorry,” Louis says. “We were fighting and we were both upset, we both said things we didn’t mean. There were people, awful people that I no longer associate with, that told me the only way for me to do this and be successful was to move to LA and be straight. I know that isn’t true now, but I was young Harry, I was desperate. I listened, I shouldn’t have, but I did. But I came back, I came back to tell you that I was ready to tell them no and take it all back-but you weren’t there. You were already off with your new boyfriend, so maybe I never really meant anything to you.”

“That wasn’t what it was,” Harry says, sounding choked up once more. “I just couldn’t be in that flat anymore without you. I waited two weeks for you to come back, lonely, crying in our bed. I kept telling myself that you would come back, that you weren’t just going to leave me there alone after everything.”

Louis runs his hands through his hair. He hates the thought of it, the thought of Harry waiting for him, crying alone for so long without him. He hates himself for leaving, for thinking that what his manager told him was true, that they would be better off without one another.

He can still remember how awful it felt, opening the door to their flat to find Harry’s things gone. To find Harry gone.

“I will never be able to apologize enough for that,” Louis whispers, his own voice cracking a bit with emotion. “I’m sorry, Harry. I’m sorry that I didn’t come back soon enough, I’m sorry that I let myself get caught up in all of _this_ and that I ever forgot just how badly I didn’t want to be without you. It’s the biggest mistake of my life, and I will never stop regretting it.”

Harry sniffles. “Then why did you go?” he whispers. “Why did you leave me?”

Louis lets out a slow breath. “I thought we would be better off alone, better off working on our own dreams,” he says, hating every word. “I was gone more often than not, you were studying-my team told me it was better this way. That it would be better for you, not having to deal with fans, or the drama of it all. That it would be easier for me to get jobs and good representation if I pretended to be something I’m not. It was never anything you did, darling, never. You were perfect.”

“But we fought,” Harry sighs, sounding so young.

“All couples fight,” Louis replies. “It was a stressful time in our lives, of course we had arguments. But I never stopped loving you, never, not even when you yelled at me and called me names.”

Harry lets out a soft laugh and Louis can see him wiping away tears. It feels so good to hear Harry laugh, knowing that he made Harry laugh.

“Seeing you this weekend,” Louis says. “Seeing you with someone else…I don’t know. I’m just glad that you’re happy, Harry, I really am. All I want is for you to be happy.”

Harry looks down at his feet and lets out a loud breath. “Louis, I-”

“You are happy, aren’t you?” Louis asks, his lips turning down slightly at the edges. “Niall makes you happy?”

Harry sniffles once more, but finally turns to face him. There are tear tracks on his cheeks illuminated by the night sky, and his eyes are wide. It almost seems like he’s searching for something in Louis’ eyes as he stares.

“Yes,” Harry breathes. “I think I’m happy.”

Louis nods. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I want that for you, Harry. I want you to be happy, to get everything you’ve ever wanted out of life. You deserve that.”

“You do too,” Harry says, eyes dropping down to his scarf for a moment. “I know I’ve been an awful prick this entire weekend, Lou, but I want you to know how proud I am of you. I’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, I’m proud that everyone else can finally see how great I always knew you were.”

Louis smiles, the praise making his cheeks heat up. He lays back out on the snow, looking up at the stars. He tries to focus on them and nothing else until he’s lost in them, until he feels just as small as he really is. It’s so dizzying that he has to close his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them he finds Harry laying right beside him.

“I wanted you there,” Louis says, because apparently they’re doing confessions now. “I wanted you there when I won those awards, when I went to premieres, when I got my first actual check, when I found out I got Bond. I wanted to be there for you while you were studying with that cute face you make when you’re concentrating your hardest, and reading me poetry in bed that I never understood. I wanted to be there to cheer you on when you graduated, when you were writing your novel. I feel so empty without you, like something is missing, even in what are supposed to be the happiest moments of my life.”

Harry closes his eyes for a moment as well. Maybe he too has been staring at the stars far too long.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispers, his voice cracking. He opens his eyes and turns his head so they’re facing one another. “I waited for you, Louis, I did. I never wanted this.”

“I know you didn’t, darling,” Louis whispers, wanting so badly to comfort him. “This isn’t your fault.”

Harry sniffles, new tears falling from his eyes. He notices Louis watching and quickly wipes them away, as if letting Louis see him cry would be admitting weakness.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits. “I don’t know what to do, Louis.”

“Harry,” Louis murmurs, daring to reach out and gently wipe a tear off of his cheek. When Harry doesn’t pull away, Louis fits his hand against the curve of Harry’s cheek and sighs. “I don’t know either. I’m not going to want to let you go tomorrow, but I know that I should. If Niall makes you happy, then that’s what I want for you.”

And he means it. Louis doesn’t like seeing Niall and Harry together, but Niall’s a good lad. He hasn’t done a thing all weekend but be sweet to Harry. It hurts to admit that they seem right for each other, almost as much as it hurts to think about never seeing Harry again.

Harry sniffles and Louis pulls his hand away which immediately feels cold. Harry turns his head so he’s staring back up the stars that seem to go on forever over their heads.

“Do you remember,” he asks. “When I read that astronomy book and taught you all the constellations?”

Louis smiles at the memory. “I remember,” he whispers back. “You dragged me out here every chance you could just to show them to me.”

It’s true. They used to spend hours in this very pitch, staring up at the sky, whispering to one another, kissing until their lips turned numb. Louis would bring a blanket and Harry would bring himself. They would fall asleep that way sometimes, Harry’s head pillowed on Louis’ chest as he whispered about the different stories that went along with each cluster of stars.

“Do you remember them?” Harry asks.

Louis smiles and looks up, taking a moment to readjust himself to this angle and these stars. “That’s the big bear,” he says, pointing up, though he’s sure Harry knows where to look. “And then there’s the little bear, and the dragon that wraps around it. You always used to say those were your favorite, the bears.”

“Yeah,” Harry breathes, like he’s surprised Louis remembers that. “And the moon.”

“The moon,” Louis agrees. It’s not quite full, not quite waning, but still terribly bright above them. He smiles. “We always used to say that, remember? Because no matter where we went, we were always under the same sky together, looking up at the same moon. _I love you to the moon and back._ ”

Harry sighs, chest rising and falling evenly. “To the moon and back,” he agrees, sounding far more relaxed now. “Tell me more?”

Louis looks back up at the stars. “There’s Hercules, and over there is Cepheus. And then over there, that one is Perseus, and the one next to it is Cassiopeia-”

Suddenly, Louis can no longer see the stars.

Suddenly, Harry is holding himself above Louis, one hand pressed to the snow beside him, staring down at Louis with those intense eyes that rival the pine trees around them with their coloring.

Suddenly they’re kissing, and Louis can forget for a moment who they are.

Of course they’ve both changed-their faces sharper now, new tattoos on their skin, each more experienced-but Harry still tastes like Harry. Harry still cradles his head just the way he always did, still nips at Louis’ bottom lip in a silent request for access. Louis closes his eyes and breathes, forgetting that they’re no longer just two boys, irresponsible teenagers in love, rolling around on a football pitch when they should be sleeping.

He comes to his senses too quickly. As badly as it hurts, as much as he wants to keep holding Harry this way, to keep being held this way, Louis can’t do this. Not here, not like this.

He rolls away, knocking Harry off of him and jumping to his feet. Harry stays sat on the snow in front of him, looking confused as to why they’re no longer kissing. Maybe he’s forgotten as well.

“Harry, what-what are you doing?” Louis stutters out, chest heaving. “You have a boyfriend!”

Harry shakes his head, hands scrambling for purchase as he stands. Those same cold hands that had just been holding Louis, finding their way up his shirt and across the plane of his stomach.

“Louis-”

“No, I’m not doing this,” Louis says. “Not with you.”

Harry looks panicked. “Louis, please just wait. Please, we need to talk.”

“No,” Louis says again. “No, Harry. I’ve had to spend this entire weekend watching you with that kid, watching you be with Niall while I am _still_ so fucking in love with you. I have always been in love with you, and trying to make amends, but I’m not doing this. We’re both leaving tomorrow, it isn’t worth dragging up all of these emotions when we both know there’s nothing for us here.”

It hurts to say, hurts even more when Harry chokes out a sob. His blue scarf is disheveled by Louis’ frantic fingers, one end dragging in the snow at his feet. His hat has fallen off, laying abandoned on the ground, letting his curls fall to his shoulders. Harry is crying openly, the sound of his pleading echoing around them.

“Please,” he’s saying. “Please, Louis, don’t go again.”

That stings, but Louis can’t let himself do this.

“If we never see each other again after this,” he says, starting to cry now as he realizes what he’s saying. “Just know how much I love you, how much I have always loved you. I’m so proud of the man you’ve become, Harry, and I always will be. Don’t ever forget that.”

Louis doesn’t wait for Harry to think of a reply. Instead he turns and leaves, each step feeling just as important and final as it did the last time he walked away from this. Louis is leaving his past behind him, right where it belongs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice calm chapter for you all before we reach the end :)
> 
> I'm sorry, you can blame it all on listening to [i can't breathe](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xBOYHL9XiM) many more times than anyone should listen to that song. (It's on the playlist now if you'd like to give it a listen, maybe cry a bit, have a fun time all around)
> 
> Thank you all so much for the support on this little fic. I love reading all of your comments and hearing what you think of the story. The last chapter is coming very soon, so be on the look out for that!
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/amoriess/playlist/47sFlfh2zdN1Skqx7VWpsH) | [tumblr](http://amories.tumblr.com) | [rebloggable post](http://amories.tumblr.com/post/162514325302/take-me-back-to-where-we-started-by-amory)


	6. Chapter 6

Monday morning dawns grey and rainy, and Louis wants nothing more than to go home. The rain is melting the snow into slush, rinsing it away and into the streets where it turns to dirt.

Harry Styles kissed him last night for the first time in four years.

Louis had kissed him back.

Harry Styles has a boyfriend.

Louis’ life is a series of awful mistakes.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell Liam or Zayn what happened, but he knows they can sense something is wrong. All of the boys and their guests file downstairs to say their final goodbyes to one another before leaving Willard behind once more. Zayn catches him in a tight hug before he can flee, quickly followed by Liam who does the same.

“Remember we’re here for you, okay?” Liam whispers in Louis’ ear before he pulls back. “No matter what, Lou.”

Louis nods back and pretends not to notice the way Niall is staring at him from the other end of the hall. Louis wonders if Harry told him. He wonders if Niall hates him. He gets his answer as he’s heading out to his car, refusing to look back at Harry and his tired weepy eyes once more. Harry, who is still wearing Louis’ scarf, as if last night never happened.

“Louis!” Niall yells from behind him, over the din of conversation and cars starting up.

Louis throws his bag into the backseat of his car before turning to face Niall. He stands in front of him, a backpack on his shoulders and a frown on his face. Louis’ heart feels like it drops into his stomach.

“Niall,” Louis starts. “Just let me explain.”

Niall frowns at him. “Do you love him?” he asks, and Louis suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. “I need you to tell me, Louis, now.”

Instead of answering the question, Louis scuffs the toe of his shoe against the damp pavement and says, “Even if I was, it wouldn’t excuse what we did.”

“We aren’t together,” Niall says.

Louis’ eyes widen, and he feels awful. “God, Niall, I am so sorry,” he whispers, and he means it. He never meant for this to happen, he never meant for Harry and Niall to breakup. Sure, he was jealous, and sure deep down inside maybe some spiteful part of himself would love that, but Niall has done nothing to deserve this.

That’s what makes what Niall says next so jarring.

“We didn’t break up,” he laughs. “No, Louis-Harry and I were never really together.”

Louis stares at him for a moment, waiting for the joke. This must be a joke.

“What are you saying?” Louis asks.

Niall sighs, turning around for a moment and looking over the crowd of boys for something. Someone, more likely. He runs his hand through his hair before turning back and speaking in one rushed breath.

“It was fake,” Niall starts. “Harry and I have been best mates for almost four years and when I saw how upset he was about this whole reunion thing, I wanted to help. I didn’t realize it was like this, you know? He never mentioned you before, he barely talked about this place at all to me. I was here under the impression that we’re just be making his old boyfriend jealous, that it would be funny, but this isn’t funny. You’re both so fucking in love with you each, you absolute idiot, how could you let this happen?”

Louis can only stare at him for a moment, completely confused. This whole time, this entire weekend Harry hasn’t been with Niall? But what about the hand holding, and the kissing, and the cuddling? He can’t help but ask, and Niall just sighs at him like this is a waste of his time.

“We’re just like that, you know Harry’s like that. He’s been upset this entire weekend, he gets cuddly when he’s upset,” Niall explains. “But that kiss was dead awful, absolutely gross, like making out with my brother or something. Don’t tell him I told you that, he thinks he’s a great kisser.”

Louis tries his hardest not to smile at that, which becomes easy once he remembers what they’re talking about.

“He’s lied to me,” Louis says, because that’s all he can think. “You’ve both been lying to me this entire weekend.”

Niall winces. “Well, yeah, but it’s not like that.”

“How is it not like that, you have been lying to me,” Louis shoots back. “Why would Harry do something like that?”

Niall looks exhausted, like Louis is an idiot somehow for not understanding this ridiculous situation. “Because, he’s in love with you, Louis. He thinks you’re happy, he thinks your life has worked out perfectly, while his is shit. We made this whole thing up just to make you jealous.”

Louis scowls. “How the fuck does he think my life is perfect? I’m miserable without him, I’ve been miserable since we left each other.”

“Well obviously,” Niall mutters, glancing behind him once more. “Listen, I have to go, Harry’s staring to get suspicious.

Sure enough, Louis can hear Harry yelling Niall’s name from somewhere in the sea of cars in the car park. He’s going to find them standing here soon enough now that people are driving away by the dozens.

“Wait, what now?” Louis asks, reaching to grab Niall’s jacket before he can run off. “Where is he, I need to talk to him.”

Niall shakes his head. “No, don’t be stupid. Harry needs some time to mope, he’s been crying all night, the last thing he wants to do now is talk about this. Just give me your number, okay? I’m going to bring him home, and then I’ll text you when the coast is clear.”

“When the coast is clear?” Louis asks, taking Niall’s phone when it’s offered and adding his number in.

Niall sighs. “When he stops crying and shit,” he explains. “We’ll plan it, it’ll be this big romantic gesture. Just trust me on this one, yeah?”

Louis nods and hands Niall’s phone back to him. “Okay,” he says, reluctantly. “I guess I’m trusting you.”

Niall smiles and hits Louis on the back before running off across the car park. Louis gets into his car and finds himself sitting there for far longer than he should, watching Harry wearing his scarf and thinking about how it would feel to kiss him once more.

 

* * *

 

“Get up!”

Harry groans when he feels a pillow slam into his back. When he doesn’t immediately get up, it comes down once more and he finally decides to roll over. Gemma is staring at him, scowling with a pillow in her hands like she’s planning on hitting him again.

“You are not going to spend your entire Christmas break crying in bed and making Mum worry about you,” she scolds. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not having it.”

Harry whines, pressing his face into the duvet. “I saw Louis this weekend.”

Gemma pauses for a moment, looking shocked. “What?” she asks, gently lowering her pillow.

“I saw Louis,” Harry repeats, staring resolutely at his bed. “And Niall pretended to be my boyfriend all weekend just to make him jealous.”

Gemma continues to stare at him, looking like she’s at a loss for words. She lets go of Harry’s pillow, letting it fall to the floor, and sits down on the bed beside him. She looks at him for a moment, taking in his teary eyes and red nose, before laying down next to him.

“Spill,” she says. “Everything, now.”

And Harry does. He tells her everything that happened over the weekend, from kissing Niall to kissing Louis. He feels like an idiot as he talks, explaining his thought process throughout all of this. Explaining why he kissed Louis, why he let him go, why he didn’t run after Louis and explain like he should have.

“You’re an idiot,” Gemma decides.

Harry barks out a laugh and nods. “I am,” he agrees. “I’m an idiot.”

“Why didn’t you tell him, Harry? Why didn’t you make him come back?”

Harry shrugs, picking at the duvet where he’s spent the last two days moping. “I’m still angry, Gems. I’m mad that he just left me out of nowhere like that, even if he did come back when it was too late. But I also think that, like, I don’t know…maybe he’s better off without me.”

“No one is better off without you, first off,” Gemma says. “Jesus, Harry, you’re one of the best people I have ever met. I don’t care who Louis is now, he isn’t better off.”

Harry sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know what to do,” he whispers, feeling helpless. “I told him that I don’t know what to do. He was being a good person, Gems, not kissing me then. I can’t be mad at that, but I’m mad about the rest.”

“Well, I can understand that,” Gemma agrees. “But I still think you should have given him a chance to explain. It’s obvious that he’s sorry and he knows that he made a mistake. You have to remember, this was four years ago Harry. You were just kids, honestly I’m surprised you made it as far as you did. There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be able to talk it over now.”

Harry smiles. “Thanks, Gemma,” he says.

“Anytime,” Gemma says, pushing herself off of the bed and back up to her feet. “Now come on, let’s go downstairs. Mum’s worried about you, and she’s made dinner.”

Harry smiles and follows her out, letting himself be pulled away from feeling sorry for himself for a moment. Maybe it will do him some good.

 

* * *

 

Harry’s house looks exactly the same as Louis remembers it. It is covered in snow and someone has put up Christmas lights in the windows, which just makes it look all the more inviting. Louis stands for a moment in the garden, wondering how exactly he got here.

Because Niall had told him Harry will be here until after New Years, but Louis won’t. Louis is leaving in two days to go to Los Angeles, back to his house on the ocean that will feel so terribly lonely after all of this.

Part of Louis wants to turn tail, chicken out, run back to his car and to his mums’ house and pretend they never saw one another again. Thing is, Louis can’t go back to how things used to be. He can’t make himself go back to not knowing Harry anymore.

The envelope feels like a terrible weight in his hand as he walks to the door and carefully knocks.

Anne opens the door and she stares at Louis for a moment, obviously not recognizing him at first. It’s been ages since they saw each other last, ages since Louis and Harry showed up for Christmas just a few months before Louis broke up with him. Luckily, it seems to hit her who she is because she gasps and rushes forward to hug him tightly.

“Louis,” she sighs. “Oh love, it’s been ages! How are you? Well I know how you are, of course, but this is such a nice surprise. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

Louis laughs and hugs her back, closing his eyes for a moment and letting himself breathe in the moment.

“It’s been too long,” he agrees. “I’ve been well, love, how have you been?”

Anne pulls away with a smile, going back to looking him over. “I’ve been wonderful. I suppose you’re here to talk to Harry?”

“If he’s around,” Louis says, looking around Anne to see into the house. There doesn’t appear to be anyone there, maybe Harry has left already.

Anne nods and turns, shouting up the stairs, “Harry darling! Someone’s here for you!”

“Coming!” Harry yells back, and Louis suddenly feels choked. He can’t do this, this was an awful idea. Maybe there’s still time to run, get out of here before Harry comes.

There isn’t time, though, because suddenly Harry’s coming down the stairs. He’s wearing a big grey jumper and a pair of joggers that cling to his legs. His glasses are back once more, and he looks like a vision of everything Louis has ever dreamed of.

Harry’s eyes go wide when he sees who’s standing in the doorway, and he stops abruptly at the bottom of the steps. “Louis?” he breathes.

Louis smiles back, but doesn’t have the chance to reply.

“Louis, why don’t you come in?” Anne asks, turning towards him once again. “I can put the kettle on, we still have plenty of biscuits left from Christmas. I know how much you always loved though.”

Louis beams at her, because he did love those. When they were still in school, Harry would bring him a container full every year after the winter holidays were over. It was the best part about coming back to Willard, besides seeing Harry.

“No,” he says, hating the words. “I’m afraid I have to be going soon anyway. I just needed a word with Harry.”

Anne looks disappointed, but doesn’t stop smiling. “Well, another time then,” she decides, stepping forward to hug him once. “Please don’t be a stranger, darling.”

“I won’t be,” Louis promises, and he hopes that’s true.

Harry’s biting his bottom lip and dutifully avoiding Louis’ eyes still. Maybe not, then.

Anne sighs and pulls back, putting both of her hands on Louis’ face. She smiles at him, eyes sad, and says, “We’re all _so_ proud of you, Louis.”

For some reason, this hits Louis especially hard. He spent so much of his time here as a kid, so much time with Anne and Gemma as well as Harry. Lots of people tell him how proud they are, but it really doesn’t mean much if he doesn’t know them the way he knows Anne.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

With that, Anne excuses herself back into the house. She gives Harry a little shove towards the door before she shuts it after him. Harry leans back against it, just staring at Louis, obviously confused as to why he’s here.

“I talked to Niall,” Louis says, watching the shock settle over Harry’s features. “I know what the two of you did.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

“I’m not angry,” Louis says. “I deserve worse than that, really. I deserve every ounce of anger you have towards me for the way I treated you. I’m not proud of that, Harry, I don’t want you to think I am. I regret everything that lead to giving you up.”

Harry sniffles a bit, wiping at his eyes underneath his glasses. “It was Niall’s idea,” he whispers.

Louis can’t help but smile at that. “Yeah, so he’s said,” he replies. “He’s very proud of that.”

Harry snorts and shakes his head. “Idiot,” he mutters.

“I’m sorry for what I said about you leaving me for someone else, about you not caring,” Louis continues. “Even when I was saying it, I knew it was bullshit. I’m just still so upset with myself for how stupid I acted, how easily I gave in.”

Harry looks down at his feet, bare against the front steps of his mother’s house, probably cold. Louis realizes he should probably speed this up, but he can’t bear the thought of this being the last time they ever see one another. He lets out a sigh and hands Harry the envelope.

“What’s this?” Harry asks, taking it from Louis’ hands and looking it over. It’s a bit beaten up after spending almost four years hidden amongst Louis’ things.

“A letter I wrote you,” Louis says, a half-truth. “I left it at the flat when I couldn’t find you. I hoped you’d come back for something you left and see it, but you never did. I think it’s important that you read it.”

Harry looks down at the letter once more, running his fingers over his name on the front, over the place where its worn from being taped to the back of their flat door for months. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Louis isn’t sure what he’s being thanked for, but he nods anyway.

They stand there for a moment, the awkwardness between them feels terribly sad. Louis can’t remember feeling this awkward around Harry since their first week together, when they hardly knew each other. Maybe Harry’s thinking about that as well, because he finally meets Louis’ eyes.

“Do you remember,” he says suddenly. “Why we became friends?”

Louis smiles, because he does, he remembers it so clearly. “Of course I do,” he says.

It was the second week of school, and Louis was terribly lonely. Harry rarely spoke to him and Louis pretended not to hear him crying himself to sleep at night, and that was the extent of their relationship. That was until Louis saw Harry in the quad one afternoon after lunch hour, looking down at his feet and trying to make himself appear small while two older boys teased him.

Louis still isn’t sure what spurred such anger in him. Maybe it was the fact that he felt for Harry, he felt for the boy who so clearly missed his mother, who called her every night before bed and pretended to be okay. Maybe it was the fact that Harry’s just the sort of person he wants to protect, with those big doe eyes, curls, and shyness. Or maybe Louis just really wanted a friend, and surely his roommate for the next four years would be a good place to start.

Whatever reason, Louis found himself striding across the quad just as the boys were pulling on Harry’s shirt. They were teasing him, calling him scholarship kid, asking where he bought his hand me down jumpers from. Louis pushed them away, told them if he ever saw them touching Harry again he’d snap their wrists. Harry had looked at him, eyes bugged out, as one of the boys laughed and reached out to push the younger boy once more in his hand me down jumper.

So Louis had done the honorable thing and punched him.

“You got into so much trouble,” Harry laughs, wiping his tears away with the sleeve of his jumper. “You had Saturday detentions for like, an entire month. I was sure they were just going to kick you out completely. I couldn’t believe that you stuck up for me that way, but you always did Louis. You always took care of me when I needed it.”

Louis smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know what to say, Harry, you were easy to love,” he says. “We were so close, almost codependent. Remember that first Christmas? I spent the last two weeks at yours just because I missed you so much.

Harry giggles. “Yeah,” he sighs, looking down at the letter once more before clearing his throat. “I…Louis, I don’t think you understand what I meant when I said we were bad for each other. I don’t mean it in the way you think, I don’t regret what we had for even a moment. I can’t imagine who I would be now if I didn’t have you growing up. I just meant like you said, we were so codependent. I was so young, and so in love, I was willing to give up everything to be with you, and you felt the same way and we just… _exploded_. We were kids, Louis, you know? I think it’s been long enough for me to look back and say like, what the fuck were we thinking? We had no business being in love as we were.”

Louis can’t help but smile at that, just a bit. Harry has no idea how right he is. Then again, he’s always been the smart one, so Louis shouldn’t be shocked.

“But I was,” he answers, proud of the fact that his voice doesn’t waver. “And I am. I am just as in love with you now as I was then.”

Harry goes red and ducks his head for a moment. “It’s different now,” he says, as if he’s trying to convince himself as well. “We’re different people now.”

“I still love you,” Louis says. “We aren’t all that different, Haz. You’re still you, deep down, and I’m still who I was when I fell in love with you. I’m sorry that I ever let you think that that could change.”

Harry says nothing else, just looks at Louis before nodding a bit. He sniffles and wipes at his eyes, and Louis feels awful for making him stand out here in the cold.

“I need to head back,” Louis says, reluctantly. “Just…read it, yeah? And let me know what you think.”

Harry nods. “I will,” he promises.

“Okay,” Louis sighs. “Well, bye Harry.”

“Bye Louis,” Harry replies. He looks torn between retreating to his warm house or chasing after Louis. Louis isn’t sure which one he wants right now either.

With one last nod, Louis turns and walks away. He forces himself not to look back, even when he hears Harry start to cry, and prays that this won’t be their last goodbye.

 

* * *

 

Harry doesn’t get the chance to open the letter until late that night. Now that Gemma’s gone back to work, he is the only one left for his mother to grill about their social life, and she does just that. As soon as he walks back inside, freezing cold and still sniffling, she makes him sit down at the kitchen table and tries to get every detail out of him. Anne continues repeating her sentiment that the two should at least be friends once more.

The only problem with that is, Harry isn’t sure if he ever could be friends with Louis. They were friends for two years, sure, but they were practically dating then as well. Harry never cuddled with his other friends the way he cuddled with Louis. He never stole his other friend’s jumpers just to smell like their cologne all day the way he did with Louis’ jumpers. He never sat in his other friend’s laps, or let them fall asleep on his chest during a movie, or gently placed kisses on their temples when they’d done well when he tutored them.

Now, Harry isn’t sure who he and Louis thought they were kidding. They were terribly obvious in their feelings for one another, even before that kiss in the library that changed everything.

When Harry finally manages to shake his mum off, he finds himself sitting alone in his childhood bedroom, staring at the letter. It sits in the middle of his bed, Harry scrawled across the front in Louis’ scratchy handwriting. He doesn’t want to open it, doesn’t want to read its contents which will no doubt break his heart even further.

Where’s Niall to rip it open with his teeth when you really need him, Harry wonders.

After a solid five minutes of staring, thinking over the worst possible scenarios, and trying to get his hands to stop shaking, Harry reaches out and opens it.

He’s surprised to see not just one but two letters inside. One says, _read this second_ on the outside, so Harry does as he’s told. The other letter is obviously far older, much more crinkled and full of crossed out words. The handwriting is rushed and Harry could almost cry when he starts reading.

 _Harry baby, where did you go?? I_ _’ve asked all of our friends, no one has seen you. I even staked out your uni as long as I could without seeming like a creep but couldn’t find you. Baby where are you? Your sister says to just give you some time but I don’t have some time. I’m worried about you, I need to know that you’re okay._

 _I need to apologize for what I said to you Harry. You have never once held me back ever. I don_ _’t want you to think that. You have been the only person in my life to support me unconditionally in this stupid dream since I was 14. Your love could never hold me back. Being who I am and being in love with you are more important than getting a role. I need you to know that darling, please._

 _If you find this and I_ _’m not here, call me please. I feel helpless all I can do is leave this here and hope that you find it. I can still give up the role Haz, we can work this out even if I don’t. I don’t want to lose you forever over something I said when I was upset that I didn’t mean. You’re everything to me darling._

 _Please come home. I_ _’m waiting for you. I will always be waiting for you._

_I love you to the moon and back, always._

_-Louis_

Harry finishes, hiccupping through his tears. He feels like such an idiot. If he had just waited a few days longer, if he had just held out, Louis would have come back for him. He knew Louis would never leave him like that, and yet he let himself believe it anyway. God knows where they would be now if he had.

But that’s just the problem, he thinks. If Louis had apologized, then what? Would he have given up on the film that became his big break, the film that cemented him as an award-winning actor deserving of the world’s attention? Would Harry have followed him, given up on his own dreams for Louis’ sake, on his degree and his writing?

Or would they have worked it out. Could they have worked it out. Harry isn’t sure anymore.

He reaches for the other letter and opens it. It’s newer, obviously just written, and Louis’ handwriting has changed to something far more legible.

_Harry,_

_I_ _’m about to drive to your house to leave this letter with you and I can’t decide if this is an awful idea or not. Niall seems to think a grand gesture is the only way to go, but I think you need to read this letter before anything else. There are some things you need to know._

 _Seeing you in the place where I first fell in love with you brought everything back to me. I have spent so much of the past four years hiding my emotions, pretending I never cared, pretending that I wasn_ _’t still completely heartbroken._

 _You still take my breath away, Harry, even after all of these years. It hurt seeing you with someone else, though I_ _’m sure you wanted it to hurt, and I can’t blame you for that. If I were you, I would hate me for what I did. I hate me a bit as well for it, if we’re being honest._

 _But I_ _’m not sure what hurt worse, seeing you with someone else, or learning it was all a lie and you are nowhere near as happy as you painted yourself out to be. Maybe you’ve been pretending a bit as well, love. Maybe you’re still as heartbroken as I am._

 _You were right about what you said when you read me your letter. It was a bit unhealthy, and I can see it clearly now. I never would_ _’ve let you give up on your dreams at school, Harry, and you know that. At the same time, I know you never would’ve let me give up on my own dreams. Maybe it was just a case of wrong place, wrong time. In any other lifetime, any other world, maybe you could still love me._

 _Maybe in this lifetime you still could. I love you, Harry Styles, that has not changed. To the moon and back, yeah? That_ _’s quite a long time. (Though I’m not sure how long, but I know you probably do genius.) You were the best part of my life for so long, Harry. I have other things now, things that should make me happy, but it feels wrong. It feels wrong not sharing my life with you as we always planned._

 _I read my goals in that letter too, and I only had three. One was to marry you. We were young and stupid, I_ _’ll give you that, but I can remember being so sure of that one thing. Becoming an actor, being successful-those were pipe dreams. Marrying Harry Styles, that was set in stone. Being yours was just a given._

 _What happens from here is up to you. I love you, Harry, I am just as hopelessly in love with you now as I was when we were kids. I_ _’m not going to beg you to come back, and I don’t want you to feel guilty if you don’t. We’re older now, we’re smarter, we can work this out far better now than we ever could at eighteen. It doesn’t have to be choosing a career over each other, it doesn’t have to be impressing anyone but ourselves. It just has to be what you feel, darling. What do you feel?_

 _I_ _’m leaving December 28th. If you don’t want me, I won’t blame you. If you do, well, I guess I said it best:_

 _Please come home. I_ _’m waiting for you. I will always be waiting for you._

 

* * *

 

Harry comes crashing into his flat, shouting Niall’s name at the top of his lungs as he slams the door behind himself. He hears Niall startle somewhere in the flat, which is expected considering Harry isn’t supposed to be back until January.

“Jesus,” Niall mutters, opening his bedroom door and stumbling out. He rubs at his eyes and frowns when he sees Harry rummaging through their living room.

Harry knows he looks insane, he didn’t sleep on the last minute train trip here, and he’s barely slept at all since Louis left him that letter two days. Turns out it’s quite hard getting a train ticket when everyone is heading back from the holidays at once, and Harry took the first available train he could find. It’s December 28th, and he needs to go home.

“Niall,” Harry calls over his shoulder as he empties a filing cabinet. “When we moved in here I had a key, where is the key?”

“Mate, what?” Niall croaks.

Harry scowls and stands up, whirling around to glare at him. “You told Louis we were lying,” he says.

Niall instantly looks far more awake. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“Louis wrote me this fucking letter,” Harry says, turning back to start going through his desk drawers. “Telling me how much he loves me, telling me we can work this out, saying to come home. But I can’t fucking come how if I don’t have a key, can I? Where is it?”

When Harry turns around once more, he finds Niall staring at him, eyes wide.

“You…really?” he asks. “Just like that?”

“What do you mean, just like that?” Harry asks, sifting through piles of old coursework.

Niall huffs, throwing his hands into the air as if this all ridiculous. “No grand romantic gestures?” he asks, shrilly. “No running to the airport and chasing after his plane?”

Harry levels his best friend with a serious look. “Are you actually insane?” he asks. “I wouldn’t even be able to get into an airport to chase him, do you know what year it is?”

Niall groans. “You’re the worst,” he says. “All I want is a grand gesture, Harold, I want a romantic comedy happening in my flat. I want to pop some popcorn and relax while I watch you two hash it out.”

“Nothing about this is funny, Niall,” Harry says, going back to searching through his desk drawers.

Niall sighs but walks up to join him, filing through old papers, bills, and forgotten manuscripts. “It’s a bit funny,” he says. “I mean, this entire situation is kind of ridiculous, you have to admit. You and James Bond were together for three years.”

“He’s Louis, not James Bond,” Harry grumbles. “And he’s leaving today if I don’t get there soon.”

That gets Niall to help in the search a bit more. They go through all of Harry’s old things until he finally finds it. It’s in his very bottom drawer, shoved way down under an envelope that he knows holds old pictures of himself and Louis that he had taken when he left the flat. It shines golden against the wood of the desk, still on the braided blue and green key chain Louis made for him mostly as a joke when they finally got their flat.

Harry lifts it high up into the air like a trophy and Niall whoops loudly.

“Styles!” he cheers. “Go get your man.”

Harry grins and pockets his key, checking his phone to see that it’s noon. “I have to go,” he says, jumping to his feet and grabbing for his coat and scarf. “Thank you for picking up all of my things!”

Niall only has time to yell, “Wait, what?” before Harry slams their flat door shut behind himself and starts running.

The flat he and Louis shared for a year is only a few blocks from his uni, picked specifically by Louis so he could walk with Harry to his classes and meet him for lunch some days. It’s close enough that Harry sometimes passes it on the cobbled streets when he and Niall and their friends from university go out for drinks. He can’t believe Louis has kept it all these years, that he hasn’t sold it off along with all the memories that came with it.

Spending their first night here on a mattress in the living room when the movers called to say they’d be a day late. Cracking open a cheap bottle of wine and sharing it over a chinese until they were both feeling giggly and far more grown up than they were. Harry decorating every room just to his liking, proud of the fact that it felt like a home. Louis preparing for auditions in in the living room, pacing the old wooden floors until Harry was sure he would wear a line into them. Harry waiting in their bedroom for the results of his first semester at uni.

Louis coming home one night, saying he got a part in a film, looking troubled.

Harry crying, throwing things, telling Louis that if he wants to go he should just _leave_ and stop hurting him. Louis crying as well, saying he would go. Harry spending two weeks crying on their bed, calling Louis only to find his calls never returned because Louis wasn’t even in the same country anymore, praying Louis would come back.

Saying goodbye for the last time, to the flat that they made a home. Shutting the door behind himself and ducking his head so people on the streets wouldn’t see him crying as he went to meet his new flat mate.

Harry gets into the building easily and jogs up the four flights of stairs to the very top floor. Their flat waits for them just as it always had, brass numbers a bit crooked, but Harry always claimed they added character. His heart feels like it’s about to beat out of his chest as he reaches into his pocket.

The key slips into the lock easily, clicks open with a soft _snick_. Harry takes a deep breath, trying to stop his hands from shaking, and pushes the door open.

It looks the same, he realizes with a start. Their sofa is still in the same place, their telly as well. The kitchen looks hardly touched, pots hanging from hooks on the ceiling over the sink. The lights Harry had put up are still there, curving around their windows, though he’s sure they must not work anymore. Everything seems to be covered in a fine layer of dust, almost as if it’s been left to sit for these four years, waiting for its rightful owners to return.

Harry takes a moment to let it all sink in before he realizes how quiet it is. Panic sets in and he calls out, “Louis?”

There’s no reply.

Harry’s eyes widen and he rushes down the hall, pushing their bedroom door open. There are different sheets, a new bedspread, but it’s empty. He finds their bathroom much the same, completely empty. Louis isn’t here. He’s gone again, gone and never coming back.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Harry collapses onto their bed and sobs. After everything, after that weekend at Willard, after lying and kissing and fighting-all of it was for nothing. Maybe he should go to the airport, try to chase down the plane that’s no doubt taking Louis far away from him once again. Maybe that’s what he should’ve done the first time, not let Louis get away from him.

He’s crying so hard that he can barely breathe, and he can hear nothing but the rush of blood past his ears. There’s no telling how long he goes on like that, curled up on their old bed just as he had been four years ago when Louis left the first time.

It’s during this fit that he feels a hand gently rubbing across his back.

Harry gasps, pushing himself up only to find Louis sitting on the bed beside him. He worries for a moment that he’s only seeing things, but when he reaches out, Louis is there. Louis is here, looking concerned, gently brushing his hands over Harry’s body like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to touch, saying something Harry can’t register.

Without thinking, Harry throws himself at Louis. He crawls into Louis’ lap, wrapping himself around him lest he try to leave again. Louis rubs his back, gently whispering in his ear while Harry tries to catch his breath.

“I’m right here,” Louis is saying. “I’m right here, darling, I’m not going anywhere. Breathe, Harry, just breathe.”

Harry buries his face against Louis’ shoulder. “I thought you’d gone, thought you’d left me,” he hiccups.

“No, Harry,” Louis murmurs. “Never again, love. I just ran to the shops, picked up something for lunch. You have impeccable timing, sweetheart.”

“Don’t go,” Harry begs, digging his fingers into Louis’ back.

Louis lets out a loud breath and squeezes his arms around Harry tightly. “Never again,” he promises. “If that’s what you want.”

“I don’t ever want to be without you again,” Harry croaks out, and that’s all it takes for Louis to start crying as well.

He buries one hand in Harry’s curls, while the other goes to hold onto Harry’s waist. Louis’ tears wet Harry’s shoulder and he shudders under Harry’s touch.

“Me neither,” he whispers. “Baby, I don’t ever want to let you go.”

“Then don’t,” Harry answers.

Louis laughs wetly, still holding onto Harry as he turns to kiss his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “For everything I said to you, for those years we lost. You’ll never know just how sorry I am, Harry, but I’m going to spend every day for the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Harry pulls away finally, but only far enough to press their foreheads together. He takes in everything, from Louis’ weepy eyes to the scruff he’s growing. He smiles softly, brushes his fingers over it. So many things have changed, but Louis was right. They were young and stupid, but not too stupid to see that they had found the love of their life and best friend in one another.

Louis smiles at him, the crinkles by his eyes standing out. Harry wants so badly to kiss him there, so he does, because he can now. He then moves to kiss Louis’ cluster of freckles on his cheek. He always told Louis that little triangle was his favorite constellation, prettier than any stars ever could be.

“I love you,” Harry whispers, his heart feeling lighter for the admission. “I never stopped loving you either, I’ve been miserable without you. I want to try again, I want to fix this.”

Louis laughs and surges forward to kiss him. This time there’s nothing to stop them, nothing in the world could pull them apart now that Harry is in Louis’ arms again.

“I love you too,” Louis murmurs, moving to press open mouthed kisses to Harry’s neck. “I love you so much, darling, more than anything.”

Harry smiles. “To the moon and back?” he asks.

Louis lifts his head up and laughs. When their eyes meet again, Harry could almost forget the time that has passed. They could just be two sixteen year olds in their dorm room, trying to be quiet as they whispered promises across the pillow to one another.

“To the moon and back,” Louis replies, just as he always had.

Harry laughs and wraps his arms around Louis’ neck, pressing him back into the bed and letting himself lose himself to the feeling of having Louis back. They’re finally back where they belong, where they always knew they should be, even as two headstrong eighteen year olds.

They’re finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The eeeend :) I hope you enjoyed this little fic, it was probably the most fun I've had writing in awhile. I can't believe I managed to start and finish a fic all in the same month, this must be a miracle. Thank you for all of the comments, kudos, and support as always. I'll see you soon.
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/amoriess/playlist/47sFlfh2zdN1Skqx7VWpsH) | [tumblr](http://amories.tumblr.com) | [rebloggable post](http://amories.tumblr.com/post/162514325302/take-me-back-to-where-we-started-by-amory)


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